Further Extracts from Her Writings and Correspondence

It is not to be expected, that the quiet tenor of Miss Graham’s habits in a retired village could furnish much variety of incident or detail. We shall, however, abundantly compensate for this deficiency by a more full exhibition of her fine, powerful and spiritual mind, as illustrated in her writings and correspondence.

But this department of our work is too large to be comprehended in one mass. We will therefore set it forth in several distinct divisions, and give her sentiments upon the fundamental doctrines of the Gospel; upon subjects of interesting theological discussion; upon some points of moment connected with Christian experience and profession; and upon miscellaneous subjects.

I. Her views of the great doctrines of the Gospel.

Her apprehensions and statements of the grand fundamentals of the Christian faith, were eminently Scriptural.

On the humbling doctrine of original sin, she justly remarks in a posthumous work:

‘It is the very first lesson in the school of Christ: and it is only by being well rooted and grounded in these first principles, that we can hope to go on to perfection. The doctrine is written in Scripture as with a sunbeam. If we do not feel some conviction of it in our own hearts, it affords a sad proof that we still belong to that “generation that are pure in their own eyes, and yet is not washed from their filthiness.” ’

After adducing some of the most convincing Scriptural evidence, she proceeds forcibly to illustrate the subject by the case of infants.

1 Would we know the reason of this indelible pollution, which fallen man has transmitted to his latest descendants? let that given by Scripture suffice: “Who can bring a clean thing out of an unclean? not one.” But is not the new-born babe innocent’? yes, from the commission of actual sin; but not from the pollution of a nature altogether sinful: for “who can bring a clean thing out of an unclean?” “Death passed upon all men, for that all have sinned.” Why then is death so often commissioned to snatch away the babe in the first hour of its existence? why, but because that babe is a sinful creature? Sin, that root of bitterness, has already shot its fibres into the inmost soul. That infant “born of the flesh, is flesh;” and “as such cannot please God” — cannot bring forth any other than the accursed fruits of the flesh. As surely as the cockatrice’s egg will hatch into a viper, so surely will the babe born of unclean parents be itself unclean; so surely it will be “by nature a child of wrath, even as others.” And therefore it is as the Apostle tells us, that “Death reigneth over all, even over them that have not sinned after the similitude of Adam’s transgression.’’’ I entertain not a doubt that these little ones are redeemed by the blood of Jesus: but that they need redemption, that they are sinners, “children of wrath by nature;” of this truth I am equally well assured; and every little mound in the churchyard seems to have a voice that tells me so.’

Then, after citing our Church’s recognition of this doctrine in the Ordinance of Infant Baptism, she returns to her Scriptural ground of argument.

* The Holy Ghost has instructed the Apostle to give us such a full comment upon the spiritual death we all die in Adam, that we cannot too often read and pray over the following passages, Rom. v. 12, 21. 1 Cor. xv. 21, 22, 45, 49. Eph. iv. 22, 24. Col. iii. 9, 10. There are many others, in which our nature in Adam is spoken of, in contradistinction to the new and holy nature we receive in Christ Jesus. So essential is a right understanding of this truth, that until we receive it, many of the most beautiful parts of the Church service must appear just as unintelligible to us as if they were written in an unknown language. Nay, worse than unintelligible; they must seem extremely foolish and ridiculous. How absurd (to an understanding not convinced of the original defilement of our nature) must it appear to talk of remitting an infant’s sins; of causing the old Adam to be buried, and his carnal affections to die in him; while all the time the hearer thinks that the infant as yet has no sins, no carnal affections; while the very existence of the old Adam or original sin is doubted by him!’

The second records of Christian experience furnish full confirmation of her humiliating statement.

‘Oh! what an unmeaning heap of words,’ she exclaims, 1 has been handed down to us in the law of Moses, the Psalms of David, the confessions of Ezra, Nehemiah, Job, Daniel, Jeremiah and the rest of God’s saints, if that evil nature which caused them to groan did not really exist! Above all, what shall we make of Romans iii. and vii. % What shall we understand by the conflict between the flesh and the Spirit, between the old man and the new man, between the carnal and spiritual affections 1 Was St. Paul dreaming, when he said, “I know that in me, that is, in my flesh, dwelleth no good thing]” Was he beside himself, when he declared, “that he found in himself a law, that when he would do good, evil was present with him?” that, though by Divine grace he had learnt “to delight in the law of God after the inward man, yet still he saw another law in his members, warring against the law of his mind, and bringing him into captivity to the law of sin which was in his members?” The apostle of the Gentiles, “who laboured more abundantly than they all;” he, who “had been caught up to the third heaven, and heard unspeakable words which it was not lawful for him to utter” amongst sinful men; he, who “counted all things but dung, that he might win Christ;” he, who was “ready, not only to be bound, but also to die for the name of the Lord Jesus;” this chosen vessel of mercy, full of zeal and full of love, and under the immediate inspiration of the Holy Ghost, so groaned under the burden of the original corruption of his nature, “the law of sin warring in his members,” that he was compelled to cry out, “O wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from the body of this death]” And from the time of Paul there has never been a real Christian, who has not often felt himself constrained to adopt his language, and to say in the anguish of his soul, “WTho shall deliver me from the body of this death?” The remedy, as is usual in Scripture, follows close upon the complaint: “I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord.” ’

From her mathematical manuscript we extract the following method of proof of the total depravity of man. In speaking f 2 of the three modes of demonstration, Inference, Coincidence, and Redudio ad absurdum, she thus applies the last mode to the subject alluded to: “If man be not utterly depraved, he must be in one of these two states, either perfectly good, without any mixture of sin; or good, with some admixture of evil and imperfection. The first of these suppositions carries its own absurdity upon the face of it. The second is plausible, and more generally received. Yet it is not difficult to prove, that if man had any remaining good in him, that is, towards God, he could not possibly be the creature that he now is. There could not be that carelessness about his eternal welfare, that deadness to spiritual things, which we perceive in every individual, whose heart has not been renewed by Divine grace. Man would not love pleasure more than God. He would not prefer “the things which are seen and temporal” to “the things that are not seen and eternal.” He would not trifle with sin. He would not sneer at holiness. He would not habitually neglect to pray.

‘All these things are utterly incompatible with the hypothesis, that man is only partially fallen from God. The very least spark of innate godliness would imply a restless dissatisfaction in what is evil; an importunate longing to be freed from it. The man in whom such a spark of goodness existed would breathe after lost communion with his Maker. He would prefer God’s will and pleasure to his own. “The honour that cometh from God only” would be dearer to him than the most splendid tribute of human applause. Is any thing like this to be found in man before his reception of Divine grace? No. He “lives without God in the world:” chooses his own will and pleasure, and seeks his own glory. He is utterly selfish; therefore he is utterly fallen.

4 We find then that the doctrine of man’s partial depravity involves absurd consequences. It leads to conclusions which are wholly at variance with fact. These reflections bring us back to the Scripture statement. We admit that the heart of man may yet be the seat of many noble and tender affections towards his fellow-men. But in regard to God, we declare his affections to be alienated, his understanding darkened, his will depraved. “There is none that understandeth; there is none that seeketh after God. They are all gone aside; they are altogether become filthy; there is none that doeth good, no, not one.” ’

The utter helplessness of man she adduces with great clearness and power to prove, that the work of grace, from its earliest commencement to its final consummation, is “all of God.”

* Grace will be given’ — she observes — to all who diligently seek for it. But, if we attend to the Scripture account of every man, woman, and child by nature, we shall find that this seeking also is the effect following upon grace received; not the cause producing it. By this I mean to say, that the very act of seeking grace proves that we have received grace already; and that the very ability to seek, is itself the free gift of God’s sovereign grace. If “every thought of man’s heart is evil, and that continually” surely it is not out of that heart that the first desire of any good thing can spring. If, by nature, “there is none that seeketh after God” whence can the first attempt to seek him arise, but from free grace drawing us contrary to nature 1 Freely must grace be given to enable us to seek at first; and freely must it be continued, to enable us to go on seeking. I know that none shall seek the Lord in vain; none who come shall be cast out; none who believe shall come short of everlasting life; none who choose the better part shall have it taken from them; but then none can seek the Lord, unless he first seek them. None can come, except it be given him of the Father; — none can believe, save as many as are orduined to eternal life; none can choose Christ, except he first choose them. If again we consider the magnitude of the change which must take place in every sinner’s heart before he can truly and earnestly seek God, we shall be convinced that no part of it is properly his own. He must “be born again;” must “become a new creature; old things must pass away, all things must become new;” he must “pass from death unto life;” “from darkness to light — from the power of Satan unto God;” — “from going about to establish his own righteousness, to submit himself to the righteousness of God;” and this, to a proud carnal heart, is the most difficult of all. And who is sufficient for these things? Who but He, that first formed us in the womb, can cause us to be born again of the Spirit 1.” Who but He, that originally created us, is able to “create us anew in Christ Jesus V Who but the giver of natural life can give spiritual life; “and quicken those that were dead in trespasses and sins?” »,

* When the Lord of life stood by the grave of Lazarus, and said — “Lazarus, come forth; and he that was dead instantly came forth;” who would say, that this act of lifting himself up was the cause of his coming to life; and not rather, that his coming to life was the cause of his being able to lift himself up 1 It is thus, when Jesus by his word and Spirit says to the heart of a sinner — “Awake, thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light.” Instantly that dead soul arises, and its first act is seeking, or prayer; but this same act of seeking is the effect of spiritual life, not the cause. We pray because we are alive, not that we may live. We cannot quicken ourselves when dead in sin, any more than we can bring a dead body to life. But when Jesus has quickened us, we shall as surely perform all those actions, which demonstrate the soul to be spiritually alive, as a dead body when raised by divine power, will surely perform all the functions of a living person. Grace, great grace, must be infused, to enable us to seek at all; and he who first gave grace to seek, will give more grace in answer to that seeking, thus fulfilling that precious Scripture, which saith — “To him that hath, shall be given.” We neither begin nor carry on the work of grace in our own hearts. “Jesus is the author and finisher” the Alpha and Omega “of our faith.” From the first spark of grace that faintly glimmers upon us here, to the full blaze of glory which shall burst upon us in heaven; all, all is his doing; it is he that made us alive (spiritually,) not we ourselves. It is God who both begins the good work in us, and also will “perform it unto the day of Jesus Christ.” ’

Then after having confirmed her statement by the strong and unequivocal language of the Church, she proceeds to exhibit in connexion with it, the perfect frceness of Divine grace.

1 It is absolutely necessary to a clear and full view of this doctrine, that we ascribe to the free, sovereign and unmerited grace of God, the first desire after him that ever arose in our hearts, as well as the fulfilling of that desire when expressed in prayer. WTe must be convinced that nothing in the work of salvation is our own, but only the gift of God’s love to us in Christ Jesus. Christ died for us when we were enemies. The benefits of his death are applied to us, for the purpose of reconciling us, not in consequence of our making any advances towards being reconciled. He “died for the ungodly,” for those “who were without strength,” without strength to come to him; without strength to form so much as a wish to come to Him. The desire to come is given for his sake the ability to come is given for his sake .•’ the acceptance on coming is an acceptance for the beloved sake of this beloved Saviour, “without whom we can do nothing.” Those who say — ‘Grace will be given if we ask; but then asking must precede or procure the given grace’ — are in effect robbing God of much of the glory due unto his name. For the power and the inclination to ask are of themselves a part of the free gift of God’s grace to us in Christ Jesus. They are the beginning of God’s work in the heart; and to say, that we begin this work, is no other than to say that we can create ourselves anew in Christ Jesus. I will venture to affirm, that if God waited to give us his grace till we asked him for it of our own accord, we should go without it to all eternity.

‘The great source of error on this head, even amongst serious people, is, that they cannot bring themselves to think they have nothing of their own in the work of salvation. Therefore it is, that, when constrained to acknowledge that the grace given them when they seek, is from God only; their self-righteousness betakes itself to another strong hold; and we find them laying claim to their asking and seeking, as if that at least was the effort of their own will, the spontaneous act of their own power. This is just as if one should take a dead person by the hand, breathe life into him, and lift him up upon his feet; and that person should make a show of acknowledgment to his benefactor, by allowing to that benefactor the praise of lifting him up after he was alive, and keeping him alive ever since, and yet should maintain, that the first breath of all came into him by his own spontaneous act, by the effort of his own unassisted power. The absurdity of such an assertion with regard to temporal life, would strike us at once; but we are not so struck with it in reference to spiritual life; and the reason is this, — when we speak of a corpse, we know what we speak about, — there it lies before our eyes, incapable of breathing, moving, speaking. We perfectly know what we mean, when we say that a dead body cannot raise itself to life. But when we speak of a soul “dead in trespasses and sins,” we too often use the phrase, merely because we find it in the Scriptures, without the slightest conception of the awful reality expressed by it. Nor is it till we have ourselves in some measure “passed from death unto life,” that we begin to perceive the dreadful and close analogy which really exists between the two states of natural and spiritual death. If God were to come to an unconverted person with the question — not — “Can these dry bones” — but Can these dead souls — “live!” he would be apt to reply — Why not? What should hinder them from raising themselves up, and breathing the breath of spiritual life 1 But when God has quickened us from our own death in trespasses and sins, our eyes are opened to see what spiritual death really is, and then we learn with trembling awe to reply, “Lord, thou knowest.” This is thy work. It is thou that must make us alive, and not we ourselves.

‘Since then men are universally disposed to “go about establishing their own righteousness,” how carefully ought we to close up every avenue through which this besetting sin might gain admittance, and rob us of our peace, by leading us to rob Christ of his praise! Many are the windings of our own treacherous hearts; many are the devices of Satan, by which he would tempt us to ascribe to our own strength what God has done for us of his mere mercy. Nor let us think that a mistake here can be of trifling importance. God is very jealous for his great name; and he has declared, that “if we will not lay it to heart, to give glory to his name, he will send a curse upon us, and will even curse our blessings.” Many and glorious are the crowns which adorn the sacred head of Immanuel; let us not try to pluck thence the brightest and fairest of them all, for well does it become this King of kings. When we reach heaven, and receive the crown of glory, we shall be ready enough to cast that at his feet, and to say, Thou only art worthy. Let us do the same with the crown of grace here; for surely we have as little right to arrogate the one to ourselves as the other.’

These Scriptural statements of man’s total corruption are well connected with the calls of the Gospel; not as implying man’s natural free-will and power to turn to God; but as displaying the riches of Divine grace, as stamping the mark of guilt upon the moral inability of the sinner, and setting forth the means by which the Lord accomplishes the purposes of his everlasting love. In the valley of dry bones, to which Miss Graham has just alluded, the prophet was commanded to’” call the things that be not, as though they were.” The almighty power of God gave effect to the feeble voice of his servant. He fails not to manifest the same Divine power in the resurrection of souls under the ministration of his Gospel; while the sovereignty of his grace is not less apparent in “quickening whom he will.”

Perhaps, however, Miss Graham may be considered somewhat defective in an exhibition of the free invitations of the Gospel. Many exclusive writers* deem it unnecessary to address the language of pleading love and urgent remonstrance, where the want of inclination opposes a moral barrier to its success. But this is to obscure the riches of the grace of God by the narrow and perverted reasoning of man. Our Lord’s personal ministry was in no way restrained by his perfect knowledge of the Divine purpose or of human inability. Though the objects of electing love were individually known to him, yet his gracious offers were as general, as if no counsel had been fixed in the eternal mind, or as if he were unacquainted with its restricted object and end. Though he most decisively declared man’s total inability to come to him irrespective of the sovereign application of Almighty power; yet “his bands of love” were “the cords of a man;” suited to “draw” him as a rational and responsible creature. The freeness of Divine mercy, not the secret decree of the Divine will, was the ground and rule of his patient procedure. He spoke the glad tidings to the unbelieving Jews, “that they might he saved” He complains of them most tenderly, that “they would not come to him, that they might have life.’’’’ He connected his declaration of the purpose of God with a full and faithful invitation to sinners. He offered himself indefinitely to large and mixed assemblies as the provision for the salvation of the whole world. He extended the commission of his Gospel “to every creature” and closed the special revelation of the future history of the church, with the same widely-extended embrace of inestimable mercy. Where then is the sinner that is excluded from the responsibility of believing the testimony? Or where is he that is shut out from the encouragement of its free and large invitations 1

Turning from Miss Graham’s writings to her correspondence, we find her views of the Gospel to be equally clear and encouraging.

The following letter gives a distinct view of the ground of our acceptance with God:

* Miss Graham, however, must not be confounded with writers of this class. If there was an omission in her statements, there was no defect in her system. Her private correspondence abounds with the most fervid appeals to the unconverted, and the most unrestricted offers of the Gospel. Seethe letters in Chapter V. adduced as illustrative of her * compassionate concern for the unconverted.’’

February 15, 1828.

Dearest. Join with me in admiring the mercy of

our God. “For if when vje were enemies we were reconciled unto God by the death of his Son, much more being reconciled, we shall be saved by His Life.” “If we confess our sins, God is” — not merciful and compassionate, but, “faithful and just to forgive us our sins.” For since “Christ once suffered, the just for the unjust;” since He “bore our sins in his own body on the tree;” if we believe on Him, and lay hold on his salvation, justice itself cannot but acquit us. It cannot be, that Jesus should lay down His life, and that then God should require ours. It cannot be, that, when Jesus has paid the dreadful debt to the very uttermost farthing, we should be called upon to pay it once again. No. As God is a faithful God, He must fulfil the promises He has made, that not one of all those who come to Him through Jesus, shall ever perish. As He is a just God, He will not punish us and our Surety too; will not demand a twice-told reckoning. If indeed the atonement of Jesus were not perfect; if He had not suffered all, not paid all, we might tremble. But Almighty Justice declared itself satisfied, when our Surety was released from the prison of the tomb, when he sat down on the right hand of God, and took possession in our name of the inheritance He had purchased for us; and therefore it is said, that He “was delivered for our offences, and was raised again for our justification.” By His death He laid down the price of our salvation; by His rising again He declared that the price was accepted, the salvation complete. And this seems to me the great display of God’s wisdom in the cross of Christ, that the Just should be able to justify the ungodly without deviating one tittle from His justice; “that He should be just, and yet the Justifier of him which believeth on Jesus.” ’

We extract an illustration of this subject from her manuscript, equally beautiful and just. In defining the principle of analysis to be, taking to pieces a train of argument, and examining the soundness of its component parts, she gives the following Scriptural example, ’ “Christ crucified, the wisdom of God, and the power of God.” ’ (1 Cor. i. 23, 24.) What an overwhelming multitude of reflections crowd upon the serious mind at the bare mention of these words! But in proving the doctrine to unbelievers, how many concurrent circumstances must be separately and distinctly unfolded.’ It is alleged to be incompatible both with “the wisdom and power of God,” that he should be constrained to glorify one of his attributes at the expense of another. We must therefore consider each attribute apart from the rest, and show how each is glorified in the doctrine of the cross. Each part of the argument must be unfolded. Each link of the wondrous chain, must be distinctly separated. We may offer them successively to the unbeliever, and challenge his strictest scrutiny to detect a single break. If only one link be imperfect, the whole chain must give way. All the hopes which hang upon it must perish. But the more closely we examine it, the more complete will be our satisfaction. I have adduced this doctrine in illustration of my meaning, because I know of none which involves a greater number of considerations. In Maclaurin’s sermon on the Glory of the Cross, we have a most perfect specimen of this kind of analysis.’

But we find these two things inseparably united in Scripture, holiness and salvation, as I saw it well expressed in some little work I was reading the other day: ‘No salvation by works; and yet no salvation without works.’ “Christ hath God exalted to be a Prince and a Saviour, to give repentance and remission of sins.” If then we follow and obey Him not as our Prince, He is as yet no Saviour to us. If He had not given us repentance, we must not suppose that he has

given us remission. But, dear, let us bear in mind, that

both are gifts. Repentance is as much a gift, and as little a merit, as pardon. I fear I have been very tedious; but the subject has led me farther than I intended. We are sinners seeking a common Saviour; and therefore I trust that nothing we can say of Him, can be wearisome.’

The practical view of this statement is more fully developed in a subsequent letter to the same correspondent; one of the last she ever wrote:

September, 1830.

4 Far from thinking it presumption to write as you have done, my dear friend, I think we ought not to be ashamed of owning what God has done for our souls. We know that it is solely “by the grace of God,” His free, unmerited favour, that we “are what we are;” and that in our lips, and above all, in our lives, we are bound to show, that “the grace of God was not bestowed upon us in vain.”

* Dear, it has indeed pleased God to” call us to His

G kingdom and glory;” let us (in His strength) “walk worthy of the high vocation wherewith we are called.” M Let us exhort one another daily, while it is called to-day; let us provoke one another to love and good works;” and above all, let us pray for one another, and that fervently and unceasingly. We have need not only to pray, but to “watch unto prayer „•” for it is only as long as we maintain this watchful spirit, that we can hope to enjoy any of the comforts of religion. Let me intreat you, not as one whose freedom from these sins gives her a right to exhort others; but as one who has herself felt by mournful experience what “an evil and bitter thing it is” to depart from the God of our salvation; as a backslider, whose backslidings have been healed by the inexpressible mercy of a long-suffering God; let me most earnestly and affectionately entreat you to guard against the least declension from holiness; the least relaxation in that close and humble walking with God, which alone can keep you peaceful and happy. Works cannot justify us before God; but we are said to be justified by works in one part of Scripture; that is, they are the only evidence of our justification that we can offer to our fellow-creatures. “Ye shall know them by their fruits.” And what are “the fruits of the Spirit]” Forgive me, if I record them here. The description is so lovely, that we cannot remind one another of it too often: “The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance; against such there is no law. And they that are Christ’s, have crucified the flesh with the affections and lusts.” Let us examine ourselves by this,

dearest. Let us see whether we bring forth this fruit,

and whether we “bring forth much fruit, so shall we be His disciples.” My course is perhaps almost ended. I have reason to hope, that it will not be very long, ere I enter into that rest which Jesus has purchased for me with His blood. Oh! that I had walked more to His glory, “who loved me, and gave Himself for me!” But your course (as a Christian) is but lately begun, and may, if the Lord please, be continued for many years. O then let it be indeed “the path of the just, which is as the shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day.” “Be thou an example of the believers, in word, in conversation, in charity, in faith, in purity. Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. Be clothed with humility;” for as you are of an humble and “contrite spirit, and tremble at God’s word,” so will “the

High and Lofty One who inhabiteth eternity,” delight to dwell in your heart, to bless you with His refreshing- and sanctifying presence. And now, dearest,” may the very God

of peace sanctify you wholly; and I pray God, your whole body, and soul, and spirit, be preserved blameless unto the coming of Jesus Christ.” To Him may we with one heart and voice, give glory both now and for evermore! Amen.’

The following letter, however, carefully separates the fruit of faith from any ground of dependence. The application of the subject for Christian consolation will be interesting.

Stoke, Feb. 2, 1827. ‘The chapter you mention, (Matt, xxv.) is particularly delightful as holding out a lovely picture of the people of Christ. But let us mark, that it is not the action, but the motive, which meets with such high commendation. It is not said — Ye fed the hungry, gave drink to the thirsty, &c, but “I was hungry, and ye gave me meat; I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink; inasmuch as ye did it to one of the least of these, ye did it unto me.” And this appears to be the grand difference between Christians and worldly people. The Christian does every thing as unto Christ — in His name, in His strength, and to His glory. The worldling may, and often does, out of natural benevolence or ostentation, feed the hungry, or clothe the naked; but he does it not unto Jesus, but to please himself, to gratify natural feeling, to appear well in the sight of others, to gain a stock of merit enough to buy heaven, or at least to help out what may be wanting in the merit of Christ. These are his best motives: Talk to him of doing good works, because you are saved, and not that you may be saved; and you are talking of a thing which never entered his narrow heart, and which never will enter it, till it is enlarged by the grace of Christ. But let us beg of God, to give us this motive, and right actions will naturally follow. It will, as some one expresses it, ’ like the spring of a watch, soon set all the wheels of our souls a-going.’ I cannot leave this chapter without sharing with you the comfort I have derived from it in another point of view. Does Jesus say — ‘I was hungry, and ye gave me meatl’ &c. Is He then hungry, when we are hungry 1 Does He faint, when we are thirsty, and languish, when we are “sick and in prison.” And think you, He will not much more sympathize with our spiritual necessities. When we hunger for the bread of life, and thirst for living water; when we are sensible that our guilty souls stand “naked” before him; when we feel ourselves “sick” of that worst disease, sin; and in bondage to Satan, that most hard master, will not He then sympatluze with us 1 And his pity will not be a vain empty pity. He will not only sympathize, but relieve. He will feed, and nourish, and clothe, and heal, and deliver us. Nor will he be content with this. But the same pity he feels for us, he will teach us to feel for others; so that we shall be such characters as He describes the “blessed of the Father” to be. Only let us trust Him for all this, and continually importune him for it; for his promises are all addressed to those who trust, and ask, and seek, and knock.’

The freeness and fulness of the gospel are delightfully applied, to counteract the subtle influence of self-righteousness.

September 28, 1825.

1 You tell me, my beloved friend, that you have lately suffered worldly thoughts to engross too much of your time, and that you have found little comfort in prayer. “Will you let me tell you what seems to me to be the cause of this; at least as far as I can judge from my own experience’?

1 You want a more simple and entire dependence on what Christ has done for you; and will do in you: you want to be doing something yourself, when He has done all; you would repent and pray earnestly; and then you think Christ would forgive you. I do not know whether I am right with regard to your feelings; but this at least has sometimes been my

own case; but in fact, my dear, it was for sinners who

cannot repent, who cannot pray, that the Saviour came to die. Repentance is His gift — His free gift — as well as pardon; and it is only when we are willing to come to Him — poor, empty, and miserable as we are — that He delights in “filling us with good things.” I think I have not clearly explained myself; but I will try to give you an instance of what I mean.

4 1 used to be often doubting whether I was one of Christ’s people or not. Now this one text satisfied all my doubts. — “All that the Father giveth me shall come to me; and him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out.” From this it seems there is but one question — ‘Am I willing to come to Christ]’ If so, then I am one of those whom “the Father

MAR!” JANE GRAHAM. 73

hath given Him;” if so, then will he never, never cast me out; and if so, then is God the Father, then is God the Son, engaged by an immutable promise, by unchangeable faithfulness, to bring me — a feeble worm of the earth — a sinner by nature and practice — yes, even to bring me safe home to glory. Am I willing? O my dear friend, I doubt not your heart is answering to mine; Yes, Lord, thou knowest that I am willing to come unto thee. “To whom should I go !*? for there is “none in Heaven or in earth that I desire beside thee!” Again, with regard to the love of the world, — that

freat enemy to the Christian life — I used to think, how shall overcome it? Now, I look simply to Jesus, who has said “Be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.” He has overcome it for us, and will overcome it in us. For how can

we love that world, which crucified our Lord and Saviour.

How can we give way to that “love of the world,” which will deprive us of “the love of the Father?” Believe me,

my dear, there is not a sin, however deeply rooted in the

heart, from which we may not be delivered by simply lookinoto Jesus, and pleading with him his precious promises. To this end, “let the word of Christ dwell richly in us with all wisdom;” let us “hide his word in our hearts,” and we shall find it will preserve us from “sinning against him.” “The love of the world,” accompanied as it always must be by lukewarmness in heavenly things, is indeed a great sin, and will, as far as we indulge in it, be as a cloud between us and the Father; for, “know ye not that the friendship of the world is enmity with God?” But then we need not be discouraged; for though we never can overcome it in our own strength, we have a promise that the “strength of the Lord Jesus shall be made perfect in our weakness.” “Of his fulness, we receive grace for grace.” Dost thou want grace every moment to keep thee from falling? — “My grace is sufficient for thee.” Wouldest thou have wisdom? “Christ is made unto us wisdom.” “God giveth to all liberally, and upbraideth not.” Wouldest thou have peace? There is “peace and joy for thee in believing.” Thy Saviour is “the Prince of Peace,” Wouldest thou be preserved unto the end? “The Lord is faithful, who shall stablish you, and keep you from evil.” Finally, do we seek for direction in every step of our path through life? Let us feed on those precious promises. Isa. xxx. 21, and xlviii. 17. Thus, my dear friend, we may go on, “with joy drawing water out of the wells of salvation;” and g 2 we are then constrained to cry out with Jeremiah “Thy words were found, and I did eat them; and thy word was unto me the joy and rejoicing of mine heart.” I fear that I have already taken too much time upon this; but it has pleased God, in my afflictions, to make Christ, and the word of Christ, so unspeakably precious to me, that my heart will not rest, till I have called on my dear friend to live in consistency with her privileges as a child of God, and to “rejoice in the Lord always.”

And again,

September 17, 1827. 4 1 have read your letter again and again with deepest interest. I grieve to find that you do not gain any sensible comfort in the path of religion. You seem to think yourself going backward, rather than forward. But may not this be, because you see daily more of the vanity and wickedness of your own heart, and of the wretchedness of your very best performances’? If so, are you not making the best possible progress ] And while perhaps in reality you are less conformed to the world, less bent upon earthly things than you were a few months ago; your more enlightened views of the spiritual nature of God’s law, and the holy strictness of its requirements, may make you see more worldliness and sin in every thing you do, than you were capable of perceiving, when you first began the study of your own heart. For, believe me, the further we “come up from this wilderness, leaning upon our beloved,” the more clearly we shall see, that not one step can be taken in our own strength; and every time we begin to think we are a little stronger, and may venture to stir a few steps alone, we shall be left to stumble and fall, till he again upholds us with his hand. We want to be something in ourselves, to have something that we can call our own, something to look at, and to rest upon as such: when, alas! we are nothing, have nothing; but what comes to us from the fulness of Jesus. As long as we look into our own hearts for any source of comfort, we must inevitably be disappointed. If we look at “our righteousness, they are but as filthy rags,” “the covering is narrower than that a man can wrap himself in it.” But if we cast these filthy rags from us and look to the righteousness of Jesus, then we have a spotless robe; an ample covering for our naked and defiled souls. I cannot help thinking, my beloved friend, that your sadness proceeds from thinking too much of yourself, and too little of Jesus. You brood upon your own sin and misery, till you forget “The Lord your righteousness.” You are deeply sensible of your own weakness, but dwell too little on the sweet assurance, that you “can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth you.” You lament your own folly; but is not Jesus made wisdom to you ] your own insufficiency; but “in Jesus dwells” there not “all the fulness of the Godhead bodily?” and may not you be “complete in him?” Yet let us not cease to look at ourselves to make us humble; but let us look to Jesus to make us happy; and when we look at him, let us remember, that he is our Jesus, our Saviour, and that will make us more happy. Let me give you a text, which I have sometimes found to be a sovereign remedy against all those fears, which a view of our own sinfulness is apt to excite: “The name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous runneth into it, and is safe.” Here is comfort; here is safety. My dear friend, I have as much sin and weakness and folly, to lament as you can possibly have; and if it does not make me as miserable as it does you, it is simply because, whenever I am frightened and tormented by the accusations of conscience, I “run into this stronotower, and am safe.” You too are safe, for have you not taken refuge there 1 Why then will you not open your eyes, and behold how “the name of the Lord, as a strong tower,” compasses you on every side, so that you are quite out of the reach of every enemy; Jesus is our “hiding place and our shield.” If we fear Satan, he will soon “braise Satan under our feet.” If we fear the world, Jesus “has overcome the world.” If we fear the treachery of our own deceitful hearts, let us put those hearts into the hands of Jesus; he shall turn them “as the rivers of water, whithersoever he will. Nor is he only thus strong to defend us, but rich to

supply all our need. If we want repentance, Jesus is exalted to give repentance. If we want faith, “it is given us on the behalf of Christ to believe.” If we want holiness, “Jesus is made of God sanctification unto us.” If we want peace, “the peace of God shall keep our hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.” In short, let our sins, and fears, and wants be ever so great, they need not drive us to despair, as long as Jesus lives and “is able to save to the uttermost.” We are complete in him. Well then might David say, “They that know thy name will put their trust in thee;” well might Solomon say: “Thy name is as ointment poured forth;” and Isaiah: “His name shall be called Wonderful.” But, my dear friend, we have an interest in this precious name; we may draw near to the Father of mercies in this name, and he will deny us nothing. Then shall we give way to gloomy doubts and forebodings any more 1 Alas! I know how little all these reflections weigh with us, unless the Spirit of God bring them home with light and power to our hearts. Even while I am talking to you, my own heart is so little affected, that I am ashamed to go on; but I speak rather as I would feel, than as I do feel.’

The above statements of Divine truth will be generally admitted to be of a Scriptual and decided character. Her exhibition of the humbling doctrines of the Gospel brings no occasion for despondency; while it commends to the awakened sinner the simple glory of a free salvation. Nor does her view of gratuitous acceptance lose a particle of its evangelical clearness by the connected display of its fruitfulness. The man thoroughly humbled by the doctrines of the grace of God, will delight in holiness as the track of communion with his God, and the path-way to heaven; while his sense of continued defilement will preserve him from self-righteousness, deepen his self-abasement, and establish his faith in the simplicity of Christ.

Her connected apprehensions of what are called the higher doctrines of the gospel with the whole system, are well stated by the beloved brother, whose high previlege it was to attend her during her last illness.

‘She had received,’ he observes, ’ the Gospel as a dispensation of pure grace. She delighted to speak in a holy manner of God’s electing love. She “knew her election,” and rejoiced in a sense of her high privilege. The reception of this blessed doctrine produced in her soul deep humility, gratitude, and love. She well knew, that it was God “who had made her to differ” from a “world that lielh in wickedness;” and she could say from her heart: “Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto thy name give glory, for thy mercy and for thy truth’s sake.” She wras so deeply convinced from the word of God, from all around her, and from her own heart, of the deep depravity of human nature, of the utter helplessness of man to do, think, or say any thing that is spiritually good, that she saw no other method, whereby a sinful creature could be saved, but from the combined offices of the Holy Trinity; from the election of the Father, the redemption of the Son, and the sanctification of the Spirit.’

A single extract from her publication will fully corroborate this testimony. The beauty of her language will justify the length of the quotation.

4 Thus it is, that while the doctrine of predestination is death to those who weary themselves in presumptuous disputing and reasonings about it, there always have been and will be a happy few, who, humbly and sincerely feeding upon it, receiving all that the Scripture tells them concern ing it, and desiring to know no further, find it health and peace to their souls. It lays them very low at the feet of their Redeemer; brings down the high swelling of their pride and self-esteem, pulls away from under them all those broken reeds upon which they had been used to lean, self-righteousness, self-will, self-dependence: and leaves to them no one prop on which to lean for support: whilst “coming up out of this wilderness,” but the arm of “their Beloved;” that everlasting arm, which will surely conduct them to glory. When that arm becomes shortened that it cannot save, or weak that it cannot support; when the arm of Jesus fails and is weary; then they will begin to look around for some other stay, but not till then. Or when they can discover in themselves one single good thing which Jesus did not put there: one reason why he should visit them with such amazing love; then they will conclude that his love took its rise from theirs; not theirs from His. But they never will discover one such thing, so long as the Spirit of God illumines their heart, and brings to light its immense depravity and worthlessness. Therefore as God’s love could not have been excited by any thing in them, they believe it to be an eternal love: that they were called in time, because they were chosen from eternity; and that the name of Jesus is now engraven as a seal upon their hearts, because their names were written on his heart before ever the world was. And when their thoughts stretched forward to the end of this pilgrimage, and they rejoice in the view of the mansions prepared for them in their Father’s house, the crown of that rejoicing is this: “We got not the land in possession by our own strength, neither did our own arm save us; but thy rio-ht hand, and thine arm, and the light of thy countenance, because thou hadst a favour unto us” “Thus they rejoice in Christ Jesus, and have no confidence in the flesh;” for “God is the odory of their strength; and in his favour their horn is exalted.”

4 1 cannot pretend to meet the objections, or to refute the cavils commonty raised, when this doctrine of election is made the subject of discussion; for I did not learn it in the way of carnal reasonings, but by simply taking the Scriptures as I found them, and as the Spirit of God enabled me to receive them. If St. Paul, after descanting on this subject, breaks off in an extacy of admiration, exclaiming — “How unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out!” we need not wonder, if our shallow understandings are incapable of fathoming, our limited capacities of comprehending, our low minds of reaching them. We must be satisfied with believing that it is even so, because “so it seemed good in our Father’s sight,” whatever it may appear in ours. This reason, which appeared satisfactory to our Saviour, may surely satisfy us; or if not, he has vouchsafed an assurance, which may well serve to repress present inquiry into things too high for us — “What I do, thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter.”

‘That these things are so, I believe, because I find them amongst the “revealed things, which belong to us and our children forever.” How or why they are so, I desire not too closely to inquire, lest I should intrude into the “secret things, which belong unto the Lord our God.” O that he would give unto every one of us that humble and teachable Spirit, with which a little ignorant child is content to receive his father’s lessons, without rudely commenting upon his father’s ways, or rashly intruding into his father’s secrets! This one thing we know; and with this we may be satisfied; that “the Judge of all the earth cannot but do right.” But it were preposterous to expect that he should always do that which is right in our eyes, so long as our notions of right and wrong are so utterly confused and perverted as they have been ever since the fall. He himself tells us that “the Lord seeth not as man seeth:” and that “that which is highly esteemed among men is abomination in the sight of God.” It cannot be, so long as “his ways are equal, and ours unequal,” that his righteous dealings should be in exact accordance with our unrighteous views and sentiments. Instead then of wearying ourselves with impotent attempts to bring down his will and counsel to the level of our ideas, our far wiser way will be to submit our thoughts and ideas to his will, assured that it is holy, just, and good.’ She then proceeds to defend the doctrine at some length, and with considerable ability, from the usual objections of charging God with injustice, and of encouraging licentiousness, arrogance, and despondency in man.

The writer has indulged himself with this large extent of quotation, as the best means of introducing Miss Graham’s work from the comparative obscurity of an anonymous publication, into that more general acceptance, which, in his own, and, he presumes he may add, in his reader’s judgment, it well deserves. It would be too much to anticipate a universal concurrence in all her statements. Yet from the peculiar unction and richness of her theology, and its entire freedom from speculation and controversy, they cannot be read by the serious reader without spiritual profit. The more mysterious doctrines (as will be seen from the last quotation) are handled in a holy, practical spirit, eminently calculated to soften prejudice, to prostrate the soul in humble thankfulness, and to enlarge the Christian’s joy in God. It is indeed one of the many painful results from the harsh, crude, and abstract statements too often given of these doctrines; that they have contributed unjustly to discredit the more sober Scriptural declarations, which, when cast, like Miss Graham’s, into the mould of our Seventeenth Article, are justly pronounced by our Church to be ’ full of sweet, pleasant, and unspeakable comfort to godly persons.’

On such deep and humbling subjects, the writer would not presume to set up his judgment as the rule of faith for the Church. Yet he has felt a caution necessary for his own mind, which he ventures therefore to suggest to his brethren. Let us take care, lest the irreconcilableness of these doctrines with our apprehensions of the Divine character, rather than a defect of their Scriptural evidence, should influence our rejection of them. Is there no danger, lest a predisposing bias in the search for this evidence, should obscure that singleness of eye, which is the only medium for the reception of heavenly light] The admission of these doctrines, indeed, as the result of disputation or argument, could only issue in a fearful proportion of that “knowledge which puffeth up,” combined with a total absence of the “love that edifieth.” But the child-like reception of them as revealed in the Holy

Scriptures, will be (as we have just hinted), eminently fruitful in humiliation, love, privilege, and devotedness. After all, however, we must remember — “A man can receive nothing, except it be given him from heaven.” This sacred aphorism lays the only substantial basis of the true faith of the Gospel, while the light reflected upon the steady course of Christian consistency, though it will not clear up every difficulty, will enlarge our discovery of the Divine goodness to man, and assure to our minds the unchangeableness of God, as the ground of that “strong consolation,” which “the heirs of promise” are fully warranted to enjoy.

II. On subjects of Theological Discussion.

The first question is closely connected with some of the subjects of the last section. It states her views of the consistency of conditional promises with a free salvation.

4 As to the promises’ — Miss Graham observes — ’ 1 do not say, that they are unconditional either; but I do say, that the conditions on which they depend are such as guilty man is altogether incapable of performing. I do say that Jesus as our Surety, has performed all these for us, and by his Spirit will perform them all in us. Through his perfect atonement we escape the threatenings; through his unspotted obedience we become “heirs of the promises” — heirs of eternal life. For if the blame of our sins has been imputed to Him, then has the merit of His righteousness been imputed to us. “If he has been made sin for us, then have we been made the righteousness of God in him.” And. because the promises are ours for his sake, therefore the conditions of them are worked in us by his free Spirit; “for it is not we who live the life of faith, but Christ that liveth in us.”

4 One of the sweetest promises, upon which the mind of every Christian rests with unspeakable delight, runs thus: “Him that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out.” Here is a condition, M Him that cometh;” and a promise — “I will not cast out.” But who are those that come to Jesus’? “All that the Father giveth me shall come to me.” “No man can come to me, except the Father which hath sent me, draw him.” “No man can come to me, except it were given to him of my Father.” How distinctly are we here told, that the same free mercy, which promises to receive us when we come, must be put forth to make us come; or we never should come / The promise will surely be fulfilled to all who obey the condition.; but none can obey the condition, save those to whom it is given.’*

‘Every condition necessary to salvation’ — she remarks — ‘is fulfilled in us, not by any efforts of our own, but by our “receiving” continually “grace for grace out of the fulness of Jesus.” ‘In confirmation of her argument, she adduces the Christian graces (repentance, faith, love,) as required of us, but yet wrought in us. Thus she concludes the discussion — ‘The great question then about the promises seems to be, not so much whether they are conditional, as whether God looks to Christ, or to us, for the performance of those conditions. If to Christ, the burden is laid upon “one that is mighty .•” if to us, then we are undone; ’ for the condition of man after the fall is such, that he cannot turn and prepare himself, by his own natural strength and good works, to faith and calling upon God: wherefore we have no power to do good works pleasant and acceptable to God, without the grace of God by Christ preventing us, that we may have a good will, and working with us, when we have that good will.’’

This statement is confessedly strong and uncompromising; yet it is in the writer’s apprehension, neither unguarded, unscriptural, or discouraging. It assumes with our church the Scriptural point, not of the weakness, but of the utter helplessness of man. It connects the freeness of the Gospel with the sovereign purpose and Almighty grace of God. Thus man and God are each in his proper place; man in the dust; God on the throne. The humble and intelligent believer will acknowledge of every act of faith and obedience to the end of his course — “Thou also hast wrought all our works in ws.” Nor will he hesitate to trace all these works to the “good pleasure” of his God as the first cause.

The opposite statement may be easily proved to be most discouraging. The free invitations of the Gospel are unconnected with an entire dependence upon Divine grace to enable the sinner to accept them. Conscious inability is therefore left without any power to act upon it. The sinner is either blinded in self-delusion, or hardened in despondency. On the other hand his helplessness is taught to depend upon the Sovereign pleasure of a God of love; and he “works out his salvation with fear and trembling,” indeed, but with confident hope of perseverance. H

The unscriptural use of the term condition with many theologians — as if man could of himself perform the work of his salvatio?i — has brought it into disrepute. Yet in Miss Graham’s view conditional promises ultimately resolve themselves into absolute unconditional love. The duties of Christian obedience — the Divinely appointed means of enjoying the promises — do not depend upon any thing to be fulfilled by us. They constitute a part of the engagements of the Evangelical covenant, by which the Lord fulfils the demands of his law by the Almighty power of his grace. Miss Graham with many excellent men would altogether abolish the use of the term, at least as applied to us. But it has been allowed by many of our most orthodox divines, whose statements cannot justly be accused of infringing upon the freeness of the Gospel. It would be difficult to substitute any other theological term, that would express the sense of many important declarations of Scripture with equal precision and appropriateness. Let it be understood to imply — not what is meritorious, but what is necessary in the economy of the Gospel — not an efficient cause, but an indispensable requisite. Is it not then needless scrupulosity to exchange a convenient term of explication for feeble circumlocution 1 And may there not be some danger, lest in our anxiety to preserve the freeness of Scriptural statement, we unconsciously become fettered in the bonds of human systems’?

Her letter upon the nature and degree of explicit faith necessary for acceptance with God is highly interesting.

‘The question you propose about prayer, does not appear to me to admit of a doubt. Ought there not to be in every prayer a reference to the intercession of Christ? Will the earnestness altd sincerity of a prayer avail without it1? Doubtless, my dear friend, there ought to be this reference: nor can a believer in Jesus imagine a prayer without it. But when an unbeliever first begins to long after the knowledge of God, the intercession of Christ may be a part of that knowledge, respecting which he is in utter darkness. Shall the earnest and sincere petition which he offers under such circumstances be disregarded “? Is not the intercession of Christ going on for him as surely as if he knew of it 1 And is not this poor ignorant prayer the first fruits of this intercession 1 And will not the Father accept it for the sake of his beloved Son, though the sinner as yet knows not how to offer it in his name 1

Certain I am, that the person who thus begins to seek after the Lord with his whole heart, will ere long have Jesus revealed in his soul; and then he will seek in the name of Jesus. The most signal answer I ever received to prayer, was at a time when 1 was so bewildered in the labyrinth of infidelity, that I actually should have feared to have been guilty of blasphemy, had 1 prayed in the name of Jesus. In sincerity and earnestness I prayed to be taught, whether Jesus Christ was an impostor or not; and for the sake of that precious Saviour, whom I thus insultingly doubted, my prayer was answered. But our experience is of little value, unless it agrees with Scripture. I think the Bible is very clear upon this head, and therefore I venture to speak so confidently. I will mention two or three texts. “He that cometh to God must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him.” Is not this a description of the degree of faith and knowledge, which is necessary before a person can come and pray to God in an acceptable manner f And is not this the sum of it, that he must believe that there is a God, and that, if he diligently seeks this God, he shall be rewarded by finding the object of his search? There is not a word about, * He that cometh to God must believe and pray through the intercession of Christ;’ though no doubt the person who believes so far as is mentioned in the text, will soon believe God in Christ, as he is revealed in the Gospel. So then, if a Pagan or Mahomedan in the darkest corner of the earth, or an infidel in this country, were to begin to seek God diligently, from the mere “belief that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him,” upon the warrant of this text I should have no doubt of his acceptance.* Again,

* This text may, doubtless, be accommodated for intelligent and warranted encouragement in the case here presented to us. Yet it may be questioned whether Miss Graham’s exposition includes the whole substance of the Apostle’s mind. The faith of Cain in bringing his offering probably admitted the naked belief of the existence of God, and of his bounty to those that inquired after him. The Apostle’s definition, however, stands in immediate connexion with the faith of Abel and Enoch, (ver. 4, 5.) which implied access to God, and communion with him through an acceptable medium. Indeed, the true faith in God’s existence seems necessarily to suppose some relation to him. See Gen. xvii. 1. Exod. iii. 14. The very expectation of reward to sinners deserving condemnation, must, in a righteous government, be grounded upon some apprehension, “If any man will (or wishes to) do the will of God, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself.” Here is the case supposed of a man, who, so far from praying- in the name of Jesus, is not yet convinced, whether his doctrines are Divine, or whether he is a mere pretender, u speaking of himself ‘.” What then is the preparation required ] He wishes to do the will of God. He would gladly worship God aright, and submit to his will in all things. Yet he cannot pray at first with any reference to the intercession of Jesus. For he would think it sinful to do so, as long as he knows not “whether the doctrine be of God, or whether Jesus Christ spake of himself.” Yet this man — we have the word of Jesus for it — “shall know of the doctrine.” Consider also the free and generous promise of Christ, that “our heavenly Father will give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him.” Suppose yourself to have been in the state of mind of the text just mentioned, and to have heard this gracious promise. Would you have thought of any intercession, of any thing beyond asking? And you would probably have asked; “O my heavenly Father, give me thy Spirit to teach me whether this man is sent by thee, or whether he speaks of himself.” Suppose for a moment (God forbid that any one should suppose it in reality!) that, after having offered this prayer sincerely, earnestly, perseveringly, you were at last suffered to perish for lack of knowledge; that the Holy Spirit for which you asked was not given, because you asked it not (and how could you?) in the name of Jesus, the promise would seem to carry with it a want of sincerity, as having a condition attached to it, which was concealed from you, and which the very nature of your petition incapacitated you from performing, until further knowledge was given. 1 believe, that when Christ said, “Ask, and it shall be given you,” he meant what he said, in the literal sense of the word. It is remarkable, that asking in the name of Christ, was a doctrine not revealed to the disciples, till shortly before his death, though they must often have prayed before, and that

however obscure, of a way of favourable acceptance. The desire and act of seeking also supposes some rule to direct our path and warrant our hope; a rule founded upon some new relation between God and his creatures, by which merited judgment is averted, and “mercy rejoiceth against judgment.”

with acceptance. The Lord’s prayer also contains no express reference to this doctrine, though doubtless every Christian in his heart, offers it in the one name, through which he looks for acceptance. Let us take the text above mentioned, to an assembly of Indians. Let us say to them, ‘You know not what to think of our doctrine concerning Jesus. You would take him for your Lord and your God, if you were sure that all we say about him is true. We will tell you how to find this out. There is a promise in the book, out of which we preach to you, that God “will give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him.” The Holy Spirit is given to teach you about Jesus. If you will ask for this teaching, you shall have it; and then you shall know what to think of our doctrine.’ They ask. In the name of Jesus they cannot ask. For the very point in question, the very thing which they ask God to teach them is, whether the name of Jesus is of any avail or not. They are impelled to ask by a “belief that there is a God, and that he is a re warder of them that diligently seek him.” Will the promise be made good to them or not? Or will this failing to pray in a manner in which they do not believe (that is, to act contrary to the reason which God himself has lighted up within them) annul the engagement by which God has bound himself, that all that ask should have? Oh! no.* This is prayer; and it is praying with precisely that degree of “faith, without which it is impossible to please God.” “To every one that hath, thus much shall be given, and he shall have abundance;” he shall be rich in faith. And this is as true to my mind, as clear as any of the promises of God can be. You say, ‘Must faith be acting at the time V I think the degree of faith mentioned in Heb. xi. 6, must. Yet even this, we know, may be a trembling faith, such as, “If thou canst do any thing, Lord, I believe: help thou mine unbelief.” But, “the day of small things,” the first prayers of a hitherto unbelieving sinner have something in them unspeakably interesting. And it is so delightful to feel, that the very least of the “small things” comes from God, and implies pardon and heaven, and all those great things which “eye hath not seen, nor ear heard,” that we cannot dwell upon them without transport. This is that “faith which is as a grain of mustard seed.” Wrapped within its minute, dry, and unsightly husk is the embryo of the future tree, which shall expand and “flourish in the courts of our God.” Oh! what a h 2

God of wonders! As we cannot look into the hearts of others, it is hard to know when the prayer is earnest and sincere. But if we could discern this, we might look at such a prayer with the same confident assurance that showers of blessings would follow it, as Elijah knew that there would be “abundance of rain,” though there was nothing to be seen but a little cloud like a man’s hand.’

This letter involves a question of much interest and no small difficulty. Miss Graham’s sympathy with the case supposed, enabled her to fix a conscious grasp upon the subject, and to speak directly to the point with much force and clearness. The instance of the penitent Ninevites ignorant of the medium of acceptance might have been added to her Scripture illustrations of the argument. And we can scarcely doubt that the cry to a Supreme Being — ‘Ens entium, miserere met* — “seeking the Lord, if haply they might feel after him, and find him” — may have proved the first dawn of light and love to some awakened conscience in a benighted world.

No other way to God than by Christ is here supposed, though an unconscious approach through him is admitted. For ourselves, however, who have been made acquainted with his precious name, no obligation is more important, no privilege more delightful, thanrthe constant dependence upon it in every step of access to God. It covers all guilt, defilement, ignorance, and infirmities. It assures our confidence in the presence of a God of inflexible justice and unspotted holiness. Our persons and services, in themselves most unsuited to his awful majesty, are presented through this medium clothed with divine beauty, and commended in his sight as “a sweet-smelling savour.” A clear knowledge of the person of Christ is therefore necessary as the basis of Christian confidence. The exercise of this confidence will be — not to apprehend him separately either as God or man, but to make his entire person the object of our trust. This intelligent and spiritual worship is as superior to mere external service, as the blood of the Son of God, by which we are brought into the capacity for it, is to the vile and corruptible things of earth.

The question under consideration however requires a wise mixture of decision and forbearance to determine its precise lhnits. While insisting upon the importance of a clear apprehension of Divine Truth, we would present the full Scriptural encouragement to souls emerging out of darkness with a simple desire to know the light; seeking the truth, yet knowing not where to find it. Let them wait in the twilight for the dawning day, humbly, prayerfully, earnestly. Sincerity in the diligent and persevering habit of faith will not be left in darkness. On the other hand it must be remembered, that the influence of the Holy Spirit, needful for every act of faith and prayer, stands in ordinary conjunction with revealed truth. Let us be aware therefore, lest by broad statements we lose sight of the great fundamentals of the Gospel, and forget “that there is none other name than Christ under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved,” and that “life eternal” consists in the knowledge of him. Let us also carefully connect the general promises of the early dispensation of the Gospel, with the more full and clear light subsequently vouchsafed. The direction to which Miss Graham refers — “Ask, seek, and knock” — must ever be linked with the name of Christ. His name is our only warrant to “ask.” Himself is the only way to “seek:” the only door at which we can “knock” with any well-grounded hope of acceptance. In the neglect of this theology, we should attempt to open a way to heaven without “entering in by the door.” We should admit the unscriptural supposition of pleasing God “without faith.” We should endeavour to maintain our complete acceptance with God without the continued application of “the blood of sprinkling.” ‘Take heed’ — said the excellent Dr. Owen — ’ lest, while we endeavour to invent new ways to heaven for others, by so doing, we lose the true way ourselves.’

Miss Graham’s discussion of the subject, in connexion with the experience of the intelligent Christian, is most satisfactory and edifying.

1 1 think I now quite understand you about prayer. My reason for speaking of the beginnings only of prayer was, that I thought no confirmed Christian could possibly pray without a reference to the mediation of Christ Jesus. But your observation, that we may pray without immediately referring to it, or even thinking directly of it, is very just, as in the case you mention of ejaculatory prayer. But I would ask you, my dearest friend, is it not an understood matter between us and our heavenly Father, that we are to have all things in the name of Jesus 1 Would we, if we could, receive even the least of our blessings through any other medium? Is it not the very joy of our hearts to have every thing, and do every thing through Christ; to believe that the Father loves us for his sake; accepts us in him; hears our prayers, not because they are ours, but because he offers them for us 1 And is this fixed, settled, deep-rooted feeling less, when in ejaculatory prayer there is no immediate reference to his mediation, than in our larger devotions, when we stop to make out our title more fully, and to dwell upon it more largely 1 It is delightful and profitable to do this; but yet I think the intention of our hearts is the same in both cases. If you were asked after one of these short prayers — ‘How do you expect or wish it to be heard V would you not reply — ‘In the one name of my Beloved?’ And would not the heaven of heavens seem less desirable of attainment, if by any possibility we could possess it in our own name, instead of the security of Jesus having entered before us and for us ] I hope I am not wrong, and I am sure I would not object to repeating as often as possible to ourselves and to others our entire reliance upon his name. But I think, that when his mediation has become the very life and food of our souls, we need not torment ourselves with the fear, that such or such a prayer will not be answered, because I did not think of making formal mention of the ground on which I asked. Let me rather say — ‘God knows that I would not, if I might, have it answered in any other way. He knows what I mean and constantly desire; and, if through infirmity I may have expressed myself amiss or deficiently, infinite love will not misunderstand me.r If you think I have taken a wrong view, tell me, my dear friend. But I am confirmed in it by this circumstance. When I am in a truly spiritual state, the mediation of Christ is (as it were) so worked up into my being, that I am often, (except in stated prayers) not conscious of a direct reference to it at one time more than at another. Yet I think my mind never loses the idea. It is perpetually resting upon this sure anchor of hope. But when I am in a cold and careless state, (as at the present time) I lean upon it with an unstable faith. I am therefore much more often conscious of a direct reference to it. The shortest of my prayers have a sort of formality about them, from the cold repeated reference of the name of my Saviour. I do not know whether this is your case. I had rather have the thing so constantly in my heart, that I scarcely stop explicitly to allude to it, than lose the consciousness of it so often, (as I now do) that I am obliged to remind myself of it, in order to plead it with God. But I think that in all sincere ejaculations there is an inward, though perhaps almost unconscious, feeling of repose and delight in his name, through which alone we desire to have acceptance with the Father. I fear I have not expressed my meaning intelligibly. I have sent, as you desired, my thoughts without reserve; though I know too little of the spirit and power of prayer to qualify me to give my sentiments on so important a subject.’

The following letter on Prayer to the Holy Sjririt, evinces much thought and spirituality.

‘I feel very incompetent to give you any opinion on the point you mention about the Holy Spirit. Yet I have no doubt whatever in my own mind, that it is both right and desirable to pray to him separately and distinctly. I should be very much afraid, that the contrary opinion would gradually tend to undermine our faith in the Personality of the Holy Spirit; unless indeed it is meant by this, that we are to pray to the Tri-une God only, and not either to the Father, the Son, or the Spirit, considered as separate Persons. I have no doubt, as you say, that when we pray to the Father, we do worship this Trinity in Unity; and perhaps this is the most proper way of addressing our usual petitions. But it appears to me, that separate addresses are permitted, if not sanctioned in Scripture. And what I would earnestly contend for, (but that I fear I may be meddling “with things too high for me,”) is this — If the Father and the Son may be separately addressed; then, not to allow of a separate address to the Spirit, is to rob him in some measure of his equal glory, and to do away with his Personality. I do not at this moment recollect any direct instances of prayer to the Holy Ghost in the Bible, though I think that there are many, in which he would appear to be the person addressed. But if Prayer comprehend adoration and thanksgiving, we often address him separately in the Liturgy, when we say — ‘Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost,’ — a form of words, in which we imitate the Seraphim before the Throne, who cry — “Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord of Hosts: the whole earth is full of his glory.” The same separate act of worship is surely implied, when the four beasts, who rest not day and night, adore the Almighty, saying — “Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty, which was, and is, and is to come.” Jesus commanded to “baptize in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.” Here again a separate act of worship seems to be implied. Bybaptizing in the name of each Person of the Holy Trinity, distinctly and separately repeated, I cannot hut understand, that we separately invoke each of them to perform their covenanted part in the redemption of the baptized person. But I think, that it may at once decide the question, that we are said to be “the temple of the Holy Ghost;’1 and why he should come and dwell in this temple, except to receive our acts of worship, I do not see. Besides, all his offices invite us to pray to him. He is our Comforter; and this warrants us to ask him for comfort. It is his work to” shed abroad the love of God in our hearts;” to cause us to “abound in hope;” and to “take of Christ’s and show to us.” But surely “for all these things he will be inquired of by us, to do them for us.” I had almost forgotten to mention that beautiful prayer, Numb. vi. 24 — 26, which I have always considered as a separate invocation of the Persons of the Sacred Trinity. May “the fellowship of the Holy Ghost” be with us; and may he fulfil his sacred office in teaching us what to pray for, and how to pray.”

This question has exercised the minds of many sincere Christians. Perhaps an endeavour to present it in its full Scriptural light will not be unacceptable. The exclusive claim of the only true God to the worship of his creatures is one of the first principles of right reason and of religion. Upon this eternal and unchangeable ground our Lord denied to Satan the worship which he demanded of him. We may remark therefore upon the general subject, that the proofs of the Personality and Deity of the Holy Spirit are so decisive (though obviously this is not the place for their production,) that only scrupulosity of mind and judgment could refrain the honour of Divine worship on account of the withholding of a more explicit revelation. The Divine nature — not the distinct. Personality — is the proper and necessary ground of worship. Each person therefore in the Sacred Trinity possesses equal and unalienable claims — not as a person but as God — to the trust, love, subjection, invocation, and every form and act of worship from the creatures of God. The Holy Spirit, therefore, with the Father and the Son, together is worshipped and glorified.’

As to the detail of the question, the worship of heaven as Miss Graham observes, appears to be given to him. At least he is never mentioned among the universal chorus of worshippers; which {considering his Personality) is some negative testimony on this point. He is represented as “proceeding out of the throne,” being not only “before,” but “in the midst of the throne;” his “seven eyes” marking his omniscience: his sevenfold influence, his Divine perfections. The thrice-repeated invocation of the heavenly host, while it proves his distinct Personality in the undivided Trinity, evidently includes his worship. “The Lord sitting upon his throne” and worshipped with most solemn and impressive adoration, sent by his own authority, and spake by his own mouth, that commission to the Prophet, which an apostle declares to have been delivered to him by the Holy Ghost.

The worship of the earth commences at the visible entrance into the church of God. The very first act of Christian worship in the administration, of baptism is not only, as Miss Graham observes, a separate invocation of the Holy Spirit, but also a dedication of the baptized person to his service. For as the administration of this seal of the covenant in the name of the Holy Ghost is a direct acknowledgment of this Divine Person as conjointly with the Father and the Son, our covenant God; so it necessarily implies also the reciprocal obligations of faith, obedience, and worship. “The communion” or “fellowship of the Spirit” (one of the most enlivening privileges of the Gospel) must also, like the “fellowship with the Father and the Son,” be maintained by prayer in the large acceptation of the term. For how else, but in worship, can a creature hold communion with his God. This worship St. John scrupled not to give to the Holy Spirit in supplicating from him, conjointly with the Father and the Son, a large supply of spiritual blessings upon the Church of God.

In Christian experience, the offices of the Holy Spirit — as Miss Graham remarks — when connected with his Divine Personality, naturally imply supplication. In reference to one of these offices, Scripture parallelism, together with the marked distinction of the Sacred Persons, exhibits St. Paul probably on more than one occasion invoking the Holy Spirit as the 4 God that heareth prayer.” Nor indeed can we conceive of his presence in us as his temple, without all the devotional exercises of reverence and praise for his condescending love* The part which the Holy Spirit maintains in the administra” Hon of the church, shows that his claim to immediate worship was fully acknowledged. It was after a day of public and special supplication, that he directed by his own authority the consecration of ministers to his immediate service. To whom then, may we ask, had the prayers of the church been specially addressed, but to Himself, who was manifestly the object, as well as the author of their consecration 1 And to whom did the worship resulting from this consecration belong, but to Him, who was the direct source and fountain of it! We need again only advert to his acknowledged power in the ordination of the ministers of the church, and to the exercise of his sovereignty in the appointment and restraint of their several spheres of labour, and in the distribution of His gifts, as a clear and scriptural warrant for the direct mode of address to Him employed in the Consecration services of our church.

The Christian investigator of the early Ecclesiastical Records will observe with delight this Divine worship fully pervading the rituals of the Primitive churches.* Our own church, closely following her sacred exemplar, has not confined this adoration of the Holy Spirit to her more exclusive Ministerial services. How often has the introduction of it into her Litany elevated the faith, and refreshed the spirits of her sincere worshippers! The frequent repetition of the doxology in her Liturgical exercises, is in the true spirit of the heavenly worship; and it may be a matter of just surprise, that any one of those who have constantly and joyfully united in this public ascription of praise to the blessed Spirit, should be exercised with scruples as to the Scriptural ground of the private duty and privilege of prayer to the same Divine person.

Miss Graham considered, and with some justice, that many Christians are defective in rendering due and equal honour to the Holy Spirit. Her own views of his personality were remarkably clear. ‘I feel’ — said she on one occasion — ‘” the

* Hurrion’s valuable sermons on the Divinity of the Holy Spirit, and Drs. Berriman’s and Waterland’s Sermons on the Trinitarian Controversy, give a condensed and satisfactory body of evidence on this subject.

love of the Spirit” as distinct from the manifestation of the love of Christ to my soul. Is this wrong V Then she added — ‘I think I can account for the feeling-; as I have made it a matter of special prayer, that I might have clearer views of the Holy Spirit.’ She was accustomed (as we have already seen) to address Him in direct and probably frequent supplication. The Spiritual life indeed of the Christian is much employed in his reverential service. As “the sin against the Holy Ghost” (whatever that might be) included a wilful rejection of his faith, honour, and worship; so does every sin of “grieving” our Divine Comforter, and “resisting” his holy influence, partake, according to its measure, of the same char* acter. The antecedent obligation is therefore sufficiently obvious. The Being against whom sin is committed, must be the worthy object of religious honour and service. All the exercises therefore of contrition and self-abasement on account of sin, are our humiliating but ready acknowledgments of the claim of the Holy Spirit to our dutiful obedience and worship. A full, distinct, and frequent confession, however, of our equal dependence upon his power and love is a primary obligation, and will result in a large supply of his heavenly grace, strength, and consolation.

Should some of the minor particles of illustration be thought to possess little or no positive weight, they may yet derive force and clearness from their connexion with more decisive grounds of evidence. From the main points, however, and from the whole view of the question, sufficient warrant may be deduced to satisfy perplexed and unsettled inquirers, and to quicken even the most intelligent servant of God to a more habitual acknowledgment of his duty, and enjoyment of his privilege in communion with the Holy Ghost. If a more explicit testimony still be demanded, we must recur to first principles, never more valuable than on these subjects. “It is written” What is written is sufficient. What is withheld is best withheld. Man would be “wise above what is written.” Had more been revealed, more would still have been desired; and the appetite for what is beyond human research would have been more excited, not only without practical benefit, but to the great detriment of Scriptural knowledge. Enough is given both in substance and clearness to direct and encourage our supplications to the Divine Spirit for a full supply of his heavenly influence. But in this and every other approach to the doctrine of the Trinity, many questions must arise, and must remain unanswered. All that belongs to the inner sanctuary of the essence of the ever-blessed Tri-une God, is equally above conception and expression. The Scriptures inform us of his nature, but they do not reason about it. A divinely-guarded and sacred veil covers him from our view. And much thought upon this deep subject of Deity — irrespective of, and beyond, the sacred boundaries-~ehlier involves us in the labyrinth of metaphysics, or sinks us into the gross, low, and familiar views of an opposite school. Our inquiries into this subject must be conducted with the deepest caution and the most profound humility. All that belongs to God’s own revelation of himself, must be received with unfeigned submission and contentment. To seek for “access through Christ by the Spirit unto the Father,” is the rubric for Christian worship: and in a strict attention to this Scriptural directory, every act, thought, and desire of prayer will become a means of communion with each of the Sacred Persons in the Divine essence, “without difference or inequality.” At the same time, as our minds are drawn to a separate contemplation of them (especially as seeking those blessings which belong to their respective offices in the economy of grace) an immediate address to either of them is fully warranted; always however remembering that, whichever person be the object of worship, the mediation of Christ is the only way of access, the only plea for acceptance.

Adverting now to topics of more general interest, we transcribe from Miss Graham’s manuscript, a few remarks upon the subject of Infidelity as a fearful characteristic of the present day. They will be found to possess the usual marks of her sound, reflecting, Christian mind. Speaking of the importance of mathematical study as furnishing armour and discipline suitable to the present crisis, she remarks —

‘Intelligent Christians are especially called upon to set themselves in strong array against the gathering forces of infidelity. This last enemy of Christianity is filling up his ranks from all classes of the community. The active diligence of his malignity naturally reminds us of the prediction — “The devil is come down to you, having great wrath, because he knoweth that he hath but a short time.” ’

The deceitful and superficial character of the arguments employed by the great adversary is well exposed. ‘They generally consist,’ she observes, * of a confused mass of objections, apparently formidable from their very indistinctness. Like objects seen through a fog, the superficial observer supposes them to be larger than they really are. But let as disentangle the artful confusion of words and ideas. Let us set apart “each argument for separate and minute scrutiny. Let us analyze the boasted reasonings of the infidel philosophy. We shall find that they may be classed under two heads-Assertions which are true, but no way to the purpose; and assertions which are to the purpose, but they are not true. These form the materials of every plausible argument against Christianity. By this mixture of untrue and irrelevant matter with that which is true and pertinent, the understandings of the self-conceited and unwary are subverted. Strictly speaking, no assertion can be to the purpose which is not true. But it may be of such apparently pertinent application, as to lead us to examine less closely into its truth. On the other hand, if it be undeniably true, we sometimes forget to inquire (especially when many arguments of this kind are artfully interwoven together) whether it has any connexion with the subject in hand.’

In reference to the efforts necessary to resist this mighty spirit, she justly inculcates the importance of a well-furnished and well-disciplined mind, enabling us to meet the infidel upon his own ground of reason, and to fight him with his own sword.

‘Whenever,’ she observes, ’ “the enemy thus comes in like a flood, the Spirit of the Lord will lift up a standard against him.” He, who in his purpose of inscrutable wisdom suffers these “scoffers to come in the last age,” will not fail to raise up men in his Church well-fitted to resist them. These champions of the cross must be men “strong in the faith,” and “filled with the Holy Ghost.” But, judging from the instruments which the Lord has employed in times past for his Church, we are led to expect that they will be learned in all the wisdom of their enemies — in earthly as well as heavenly wisdom. To oppose the subtleties of Arians, an acute and powerful reasoner was raised up in the person of Athanasius. A wise and learned Augustine was provided to quell the dreadful heresy of Pelagius. Luther, Calvin, Melancthon, and almost all the eminent Reformers, were men of profound erudition, and strong powers of argumentation.

“God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise;” and he could, now, and perhaps may, see fit to correct the progress of infidelity by means of “unlearned men.” Yet when we look back upon the instruments which he has heretofore raised up, and consider the many advantages of hum#n learning which he has placed within our reach, it seems evidently our duty to use those means to the utmost; at least until the Lord shall give us some clear indication of a more excellent and acceptable way. “Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings our God ordaineth strength.” Let us then seek to obtain the spirit and temper of a little child. But let us never forget, that, while “in malice we are children,” it behoves us “in understanding to be men.” ’

She thus happily brings a Scriptural illustration to bear upon her subject.

‘David with a sling and a stone fought Goliath and conquered. This time he wanted no other weapon, for God had appointed him no other. But when on a future occasion he was sore pressed by his enemies, he went into the temple of the Lord, and demanded the sword of that same Goliath. “There is none,” said he, “like that; give it me.” Why should he choose a weapon, which he had seen fall powerless from the hand of the uncircumcised Philistine T Because he knew that in the grasp of the circumcised David it would do goodly service. The hand, not the weapon, had been in fault. Thus may we, if called by the leadings of Providence, avail ourselves of human means, and meet our adversaries hand to hand, with their own weapons. Only let us use David’s caution. Let us not take the sword of the Philistine, till it has been consecrated in the temple of the Lord.’

The present face of the times in the judgment of all intelligent observers seems strongly to mark an impending crisis, as if the “Israel” of God*’ and the Philistines were putting the battle in array, army against army.” We know on which side the victory is secured. Yet the conflict will doubtless be severe. Let the servants of God gird themselves for “the good fight of faith,” with the whole armour of God. This is no time for slumber or inaction. A religion taken upon trust,” “received by tradition from our fathers,” provides no resource in the hour of trial. A “faith standing not upon the wisdom of man, but upon the power of God” — will be a defence, a stay, a ground of unfailing hope and consolation.

Bat on this subject we will give Miss Graham’s own words in a letter to her cousin without date. It will be found to be a refreshing specimen of her mode of treating subjects which have lately been found so fruitful in speculation, in a practical and edifying application.

April, 1827. * Amongst the reflections which I have” made upon the Millennium, there are two which occupy my mind very much. I thought of them the whole of one day; one was founded upon this text — “And some of them of understanding shall fall, to try them, and to purge, and to make them white, even to the time of the end, because it is yet a time appointed.” Does not one shudder with horror in anticipating the fulfilment of this prophecy 1 Who can need purifying more than we do 1 Who can say that these words are not addressed to us 1 How dreadful to fall in that time when the Saviour is about to appear! to fall in the very moment when our song of triumph should begin! to fall in the very midst of enemies, of persecutions, of infidelities, in that time when “the devil will have great wrath, because he knoweth that he will have but a short time” to trouble the faithful. But I think that perhaps God has inspired me with this fear, that 1 may pray against so fatal an event; and this is my reason for communicating it to you. When I was almost overwhelmed with this reflection, these sweet words came to my heart, and made me think of you, — “Two are better than one.” Since in this instance the Scriptures and our hearts agree, I beseech you not to separate yourself from me. Let us love each other always, and pray for each other, that we may not fall. But if unhappily one of us should fall, may the other be ready to raise her up again. If I should fall either into the love of the world, or into infidelity, or into any other sin, do not give me up. Do not think I am a hypocrite. Think that it is to “purify and to try me;” and pray, that if you fall, I may act in the same way towards you. But in the midst of the thoughts which these sad ideas gave me, these words came for my encouragement, — “They that are with the Lamb are called, and chosen, and faithful.” You know how precious these words have been to me. But I now saw them in a new point of view. They appeared to me a plain promise introduced exactly at that time to console the saints under their difficulties, by assuring them that they will be a little troop, “called, chosen, and faithful,” against whom no enemies will be able to prevail: that they will have a degree of faith proportioned to their sufferings and necessities. In short, in describing the character of this elect band, I wish to believe, that it describes what we shall be found, if we arrive at that period. If already we are “called and chosen,” shall we not then be “faithful V1 Let us plead this promise. It speaks to me like a voice from heaven. It answers every fear, every uncertainty. Would God choose and call soldiers who would be unfaithful to him 1 Will not our Captain teach us to follow him whenever he will have us to go 1 When I say to myself, ‘Poor and feeble creature, what will you do in that time of distress and temptation 1 Faith, which cannot resist a single vain thought, how will you resist the united efforts of the world, the devil, and a wicked heart V Then I answer, ‘Yes; but has not God said, that the saints in that day shall be “faithful and chosen” by Himself, who cannot choose amiss’? Rest upon his word; if he sees that you are not fit to fight in the battle of that great day, He will not call you to it; and if he call you to it, it is his part to give you the fidelity which will be so necessary.’ «-

Miss Graham’s remarks on the subject of Prophecy will be interesting, and furnish occasion for some observations suited to the present time. Having insisted upon the importance of mathematical study in reference to the progress of infidelity, she applies the same train of reasoning to the excitement to the study of Prophecy, which she justly remarks to be one of the prominent characteristics of our day.

1 There is yet another subject,’ she observes, which, though at present but partially considered, bids fair, ere long, to engross the attention of the Christian world. I allude to the study of prophecy. “Seek ye out of the book of the Lord, and read,” is the Divine command; “no one of these shall fail, none shall want her mate.” I am particularly led to advert to it in this place, because I have heard with inexpressible pleasure, that these inquiries have already been useful in thinning the ranks of infidelity. The inducements of this study are indeed greater than in any former age of the church. The coincidence between prophecy and its fulfilment is in these latter days grandly conspicuous. It is such, that “he who runs may read.” The winding up of the whole seems to be near at hand. The last prophecy must ere long, find “her mate,” in the last event of humanity. Prediction is almost swallowed up in accomplishment. Happy are those, who with reason enlightened by a ray of divine intelligence, can trace the wonderful coincidence which subsists between what God has foretold, and what he has done; whose thoughts stretch forward in awful, yet fearless anticipation of what God is about to do!

‘But to attempt any discussion of the views that are held upon this subject, would be foreign to the purpose of this little treatise. If we would enter fully into the prophetic writings, we must, like Daniel, “set our faces unto the Lord God, to seek by prayer and supplication.” My object is to hint to the youthful student, who may probably be hereafter engaged in this most interesting contemplation, the extreme importance of having his imagination under the strictest discipline of reason. If ever the “spirit of a sound mind” was necessary, it is so in the investigation of the future prophecies. A more than mathematical accuracy of definition, of statement, and of argument, should be carried into all that is said or written upon this subject. When I consider the extraordinary spirit of inquiry that is now beginning to spread; when I think I perceive that these inquiries are not only justified by Scripture, but are themselves a part of prophetic fulfilment; and when I joyfully anticipate that “many shall run to and fro” on this subject, “and knowledge shall be” wonderfully “increased;” it is at such times that I most deeply feel the importance of intreating the young Christian diligently to cultivate, in a spirit of prayer and faith, all those parts of education, which especially tend to impart soundness, penetrativeness, and energy to his reasoning powers.’

Whatever may be thought of the somewhat novel connection of prophecy with mathematical study, it would have been well for some of our modern interpreters to have disciplined their minds to the principles of this more severe science. Much crude and dogmatical statement would have been restrained, many painful absurdities would have been excluded, and much perplexity spared to the path of the sincere, but unfurnished inquirer. The prophetic study is indeed, as Miss Graham observes, one of the characteristics of our day. The church is awakened to the full and dutiful acknowledgment of her Lord’s command; “Search the Scriptures.” Indeed, apart from the authority of this express command, the universal “spirit of prophecy,” as “the testimony of Jesus,” while it furnishes the true key of interpretation, gives it an imperative claim upon our attention and regard. The succession of events most deeply interesting and solemnly instructive passing before us through the medium of the daily press, also strongly marks our immediate and personal concern in this Scriptu-” ral research.

Many Christians are unduly repelled by the difficulties and uncertainty which confessedly belong to the subject. But “the prophets,” though they could not understand, felt it their duty and privilege to “search.” “We have also the more sure word of prophecy,” with the injunction that “we do well that we take heed to it,” and with a special and most encouraging promise to stimulate our investigation.

The precise extent of the claim of this study must however be variously estimated. In all cases, indeed, the consideration of fulfilled prophecy is a component of Christian evidence to our own minds, and will furnish the “answer, that we should be ready always to give to every man that asketh us a reason of the hope that is in us, with meekness and fear.” The study of unfulfilled prophecy; if it be a general duty, is not in all cases the immediate duty. It must be subordinated to the primary concern of a personal interest in the Gospel. To a mind awakened to serious inquiry on its own state, yet but slightly tinctured with conviction, and imperfectly directed to the Saviour, the presentment of the claims of unfulfilled prophecy for consideration is a most mischievous evil. The soul is diverted from the main object of contemplation and pursuit. A speculative taste is gratified in the place of the practical influence of the truths of the Gospel. This “ignorance of Satan’s devices” enables him to get advantage, if not to the ruin of the soul, yet to the “corruption of the mind from the simplicity that is in Christ.” And indeed under all circumstances, attention to prophecy must be regulated, in some degree at least, by the leisure, opportunities, and advantages severally belonging to us; not failing to pay due regard to Scriptural proportion, as well as to imperative obligation. That exclusive study, which occupies the place of Christ crucified in doctrine, and forms a substitute for the various exercises of experimental and practical habits, is greatly to be deprecated. Besides the evils with the young inquirer just adverted to, it keeps out of sight many important subjects of obligation and interest included in the sacred canon. It has originated many of the schisms now unhappily dividing the Church, by the substitution of “doubtful disputation” for substantial truth, greatly to the hindrance of Christian privilege, devotedness, and consistency.

Admitting, however, the general importance of this study, the temper in which it is to be conducted is a matter of the first moment. The instance of Daniel produced by Miss Graham, exhibits the finest specimen of the Prophetic Interpreter or Student. Such diligence of research in prostration of soul, accompanied, with such sanctity, humility, faith, and perseverance, will under the most unfavourable circumstances of external destitution be honoured of God. The exercise of these holy graces will form a safe-guard against the delusive influence of human speculations, and will enable us to improve the results of Divine teaching for the high purposes for which they were vouchsafed. The investigation of prophecy will thus become a cheering support to us in the anticipation of trials, and a quickening stimulus to the discharge of our immediate responsibilities.

The warranted expectation however of human help may probably have been overrated. Though in this, more than in any other age “many have run to and fro” — yet it may be doubted how far Miss Graham’s hopes have been realized by an increase of “knowledge” commensurate with the extent of research. The march of Christian intellect has been in most cases retarded by a defect of spiritual or intellectual qualifications. Some of the more elaborate and practised writers want that unction and spirituality, which evidence a mind Divinely-instructed for this “search into the deep things of God;” and this deficiency of the stamp of heavenly influence, materially weakens our confidence in the results from their subsidiary intellectual advantages. Other writers of a more decided evangelical school are too sparingly furnished with those resources of erudition and intelligence, which doubtless were intended to reflect valuable, though subordinate, light upon the prophetic page. Some again of the same school, have taken up crude and indigested views — the result of imagination, impulse, or excitement, rather than of matured judgment and consideration; while the dogmatism and self-sufficiency of others give no proof of Divine suggestion, and offer no satisfaction to the inquiring mind. There is probably no accredited writer in the various prophetic schools, who has not contributed his quantum in clearing up difficulties, and throwing light upon some department of the subject. Yet it may be doubted whether a connected and comprehensive scheme of the Divine system has yet been satisfactorily developed; and in the different schemes that have been proposed, much Christian discernment is required to separate in them what is solidly established, from what is unsubstantial and speculative. Human helps must therefore under all circumstances be subsidiary — not primary. Gad’s book must ever maintain its own supreme place. The scattered rays reflected from different parts of its. prophetic system (such as the comparison of the Books of Daniel and John) and centering in one point, will often furnish a strong and clear light for the direction and encouragement of the Christian student. We feel therefore great confidence in recommending a Berean search of the scriptures as the ground-work of prophetic investigation; not omitting to avail ourselves of the industry and intelligence of accredited writers for the expansion of our views, and the elucidation” of our difficulties; but at the same time exercising our judgment in dependence upon our heavenly Teacher, again to compare the exposition of their systems with the light of the sacred book. In this process of inquiry we are persuaded, that “the wise shall understand,” (even though they be “way-faring fools”) as far as is consistent with the Divine will, and necessary for their duty and comfort; and for the rest, they may well be content to wait for the full splendour of the light of the heavenly word.

May the writer without presumption be allowed to suggest a few hints relative to the clear interpretation and profitable study of prophecy 1

1. Let the special need of Divine influence be primarily considered. Far be it from the writer to underrate the intellectual qualifications. He is well aware of the treasures of erudition that have been effectively applied to this most important subject. He would have the whole field of prophecy traversed with all the mind and research that can be brought to bear upon it. But he cannot forget that the teaching wisdom belongs to Cod; and that it is the. irradiation of his holy light, which can alone illumine the dark places in this, to us, uncertain track. Let the interpreter duly weigh his special and weighty responsibilities. How large a portion of the grace and “wisdom that is from above,” does he need, to induce that waiting spirit so acceptable to God; to restrain the rising of dogmatism, spiritual self-will and conceit; to repress “private interpretations,” so inconsistent with the comprehensiveness of scripture prophecy; to guard against giving his own mind in the professed desire only to interpret the mind of God; to take an entire view of the whole range of prophecy, instead of contracting his interest to a few favourite points; to forbear with the decided views of his opponents; readily to retract his indigested opinions, and to yield his prejudices to the influence of more correct and enlarged apprehensions; habitually to connect every view with the glory of his Saviour, and the extension of his kingdom! These are confessedly responsibilities of no ordinary moment. They forbid trifling with the subject, as if its clear light were revealed by some momentary inspiration; they realize the urgent need of “the Spirit of wisdom and revelation,” to “enlighten the eyes of the understanding;” and they inculcate a habit of dependence, supplication, seriousness, and that reverence, which Lord Bacon so justly describes as indispensable to the profitable consideration of the subject. In the defect of this spirit, successive systems of prophecy have been ingeniously woven; the interpreters “come together,” and bring before the church their several hypotheses and conclusions; and “every one,” as at Corinth, “hath a doctrine, hath a tongue, hath a revelation, hath an interpretation.” It cannot be doubted, but this defect of Christian simplicity is one main cause of the indeterminate apprehension of the subject. Who does not see how needful is “singleness of eye,” -the gift of God, to reflect light upon the mind; while an “evil eye,” affected with some natural bias, leads us in the review of the results of human ingenuity to exclaim, “How great is this darkness!”

2. Let a forbearing spirit be inculcated in this research. The importance of this spirit in an intellectual view is sufficiently obvious, as a guard from the prevalent evils of self-conceit. Its influence in every department of sacred truth; especially in the field of prophecy ,■ is of yet higher moment. The writer’s own studies in this field have brought him to the fixed conclusion — that, many of the controverted points (those, for example, connected with our Lord’s second Advent,) are embarrassed with difficulties on both sides, sufficient to preserve wise and humble men from dogmatizing- on either part; and to excite mutual respect and forbearance, rather than what we are too often constrained to see — “brethren grudging one against another.” The event indeed is a doctrine of faith, absolutely certain. The time and circumstantials being imperfectly revealed, are matters of forbearance; on which all, even the most sober, interpreters have been constrained in the course of investigation, in some points of more or less moment, to retract, modify, or restate their views. Indeed, prophecy, according to the Scriptural definition, is “a light that shineth in a dark place,” yet not surely the light of “perfect day;” and well would it be for us, if the confession of our ignorance would find vent in the Apostle’s adoring contemplation; “How unsearchable are his judgments! and his ways past finding out!” We may indeed justly expect clearer light to dawn upon us, as the consummation of the grand events draws on. Meanwhile we must combine diligent study with cautious application. We must be content for the most part with the statement of general views and results. If the events are clear, the time, mode, and means of their accomplishment are often undefined. We are assured, that none of the Divine predictions can fall to the ground; that the events -contemplated in them are the fruit of the Lord’s superintending love to his church, and that they will all issue in the final advancement of his own glory. In this recollection it is most suitable to cultivate that truly Christian spirit of patient expectancy which in child-like humility, not in slumbering indolence, is content to leave to the Lord the unfolding of his own purposes.

The writer may be permitted to observe, that a less determinate fixing of dates of the several prophetic eras offers large room for the exercise of this forbearing spirit. Prophets with all their warranted confidence were modest. They never spoke without a clear commission: “Thus saith the Lord.” Interpreters of prophecy are not always so modest. The confident mode of calculation which is sometimes adopted, might lead us to suppose not only that the several periods, but also that their commencing points, were, like Daniel’s weeks, absolutely revealed. To a few of the most important eras, dates more or less probable, but not absolutely decisive, may be assigned; and in periods of less moment, experience has fully shown, how unsatisfactory all attempts to fix the precise periods of events have proved and are likely to prove. Our Lord, while he reproved listless indifference to “the signs of the times,” rebuked with no less decision this presumptuous interference with his Sovereign prerogative. ‘If ever,’ as Miss Graham admirably observes, ‘“the spirit of a sound mind” is necessary, it is so in the investigation of the future prophecies.’ Wise and holy men of God will learn to speak with caution and reserve upon subjects obscurely revealed. General views are sufficient for the ground and encouragement of faith. And the cloud that still covers this mystic history of futurity, abundantly shows, that the end of prophecy was not to make us prophets; but to “set us upon our watch-tower,” as diligent and humble inquirers, seeking to “have understanding of the signs of the times, that we might know what Israel ought to do,” and to expect.

Indeed this designed darkness subserves various and important uses. It furnishes a needful and wholesome check upon human speculation. Had the Great Author of prophecy intended it as the rule of life, he would doubtless have written it with a sunbeam. In its present mode and character of revelation it is however admirably suited; not indeed to indulge unwarrantable curiosity, but to exercise our faith, to call forth our Christian graces, to enliven our hopes, to quicken our anticipation of the ultimate triumph of the kingdom of Christ; and meanwhile that we should mark with soberness the gradual development of progress towards this glorious consummation. It is far more profitable; instead of making a framework for ourselves; to be looking in the Lord’s best time for that clear reflection of light in the fulfilment of prophecy, which will awe even the most inconsiderate to conviction. “This is the finger of God. What hath God wrought!”

3. Let the subject be ever considered as a practical study. It is a sign of an unhealthy excited temperament, if the prophetic parts of scripture be more interesting than the preceptive, that is, if we are more conversant with matters of uncertain interpretation, than with the subjects that relate to our immediate duty. If the prophetic study be dissociated from its practical character and consequences, our prepossessed fancy is far more likely to give the interpretation than the Divine Spirit. The blessing belongs to those that “keep the K things that are written in the words of this prophecy.” The fruit of Daniel’s research was that which is most speciallyneeded at the present eventful moment: intercession for the church and for the land; Habakkuk went to his watch-tower, not to speculate in idle curiosity, but, as we have before hinted, to be in readiness to hear the valuable lessons of reproof and instruction that were designed for him. Supposing that the period of accomplishment is far distant, yet there is a large preparatory work of prayer, exertion, and Christian devotedness, urgently pressing upon us. And far better shall we be employed in girding ourselves to the discharge of the practical obligations of prophecy, than in minutely tracing out the conjectured period and mode of its fulfilment, and in attempting to narrow its wide and comprehensive sphere by uncertain application to the little particularities of our own time and place. Is there no danger while fixing the dates and describing the circumstantials of the grand coming events — lest we forget that every page of prophecy is a direct personal revelation to our own souls, and lest we too slightly regard those clearest predictions of the sacred page — the promises of God to his people, and his threatenings to the unbelieving world?

How much has been lost to the church by a speculative contemplation of the prophetic view of the doctrine of our Lord’s second advent! If, instead of filling up (from the resources of imagination more than from the substance of Scripture) the outlines, the faith of the church had been singly fixed upon the glory of this consummating event, and intensely exercised in the glow of expectancy, how different would have been her aspect at the present moment! What a bond of union would have subsisted among her members! What an atmosphere of love would have pervaded her territory! What a spring of holy consecration would have been in extended activity! It ill becomes servants, looking for the return of their absent lord, to spend themselves in discussing the mode and circumstantials of his coming, when they might be far more suitably employed in preparing the house for his reception, and in readiness to give an immediate answer to his welcome knock.

The obscurity that hangs over the precise period of our Lord’s coming is indeed a most wise and gracious dispensation to invigorate the church in every age writh the high privilege and obligation of looking for this triumphant crisis.

Whatever views therefore tend to divert the attention from the present duties connected with this anticipation, are the unscriplnral delusions of man’s conceit. This spirit of constant expectancy may be considered as the perfecting feature of the Christian character. It concentrates all the practical and animating exercises of the Gospel. What an encouragement does it supply to the assurance of faith! What a stimulus to activity, devotedness, abounding love, heavenly conversation, sobrietry of spirit, readiness of habit, and watchful preparation for eternity! What support does it furnish in the hour of trial, whether from the immediate visitations of God, or the persecuting enmity of man! WThat materials does it give for personal edification, compassionate labours for the unconverted, and mutual exhortation and comfort in the church of God! How cheering is the prospect which it holds out of complete transformation into the image of our beloved Lord! What patient hope and joyful anticipation does it bring into the waiting soul! So eminently practical — so richly consolatory — is the believing and habitual contemplation of the coming of our Lord! Indeed when we realize the hope of body and soul at this blissful era being equal participants of the eternal redemption — the happiness of every member of the body consummated in the complete glorification of the whole body — and the church, “filled with all the fulness of God,” presenting to the universe the entire “fulness of Him, that filleth all in all” — we may well conceive, that never was an event so joyful known on earth since the fall of man. We wonder not that “the whole creation,” now “groaning and travailing together in pain” under the ruins of sin — should then be awakened to joyful exultation in its “deliverance from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God.” This scriptural privilege of expectancy was however inculcated upon the church, while the event which it contemplated could only be seen through the long vista of some thousand years. It does not therefore necessarily imply the approach of the grand crisis. Yet the view which has just been given of it, includes all the essential principles of sanctification and of happiness. We cannot therefore but see sufficient reason for the large space which it occupies in the enforcement of Christian obligation, and the prospects of Christian hope. Our Divine Saviour is brought eternally near to his people.

MEMOIR OF

His perfect likeness is the immediate consequence of his vision. His glory is their everlasting joy.

It is painful to reflect, that a speculative study of prophecy should have so materially injured the influence of those prospects of the church upon her present duties and privileges. The minute descriptive details, that have been sometimes connected with the coming of Christ in his kingdom (not to speak of their doubtful scriptural authority, and their closer alliance to earth than to heaven) have a strong tendency torepress a spiritual contemplation of this great event. Even the details given in the prophetic books are much under the veil. Interpreters expound them according to the principles of their different systems; and after all their diligence and labour, much is left unexplained, or resting upon conjectural support. In these things the writer is content to “walk by faith, not by sight.” All that is necessary is revealed. We shall be as happy as God can make us. As to any precise knowledge “it doth not yet appear what we shall be.” And such knowledge we want not. It exhibrts a far more enlarged expectancy to be assured, that it will be something that we neither know nor can know — interminable bliss without sin, and with Christ. Our happiness centres in the certainty and glory, not in the circumstantials, of the event. And surely the “shaking of earth and heaven,” which seems to be at hand, will quicken the cry for our expected Lord — * Come quickly. Take to thyself the kingdom, and reign with all thy saints.’ The waiting Christian, in these times of special trial of the church, “lifts up his head full of joy and expectation. Faith overcomes the tremendous thought of wrath and judgment, as the harbingers of his coming; and still the cry is re-echoed to the solemn declaration, — “Surely I come quickly: Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus.”

III. On Christian Experience and Practical Religion.

Miss Graham’s correspondence, flowing in an easy and natural strain, will be generally interesting. Even where no striking features are visible, an affectionate earnestness, tender sympathy, and a direct application of the first principles of the Gospel to the several cases of her friends cannot fail of being observed.

The following- letter appears to have been written to a friend, newly awakened to concern for her eternal interests.

Nov. 1826. 1 1 fancy that you have for some time past felt a conviction that religion is something more than you used to think it, more than the world in general seem to think it. But yet, perhaps, you do not see very clearly, what more it is that religion requires of you. You see, that there is nothing in this vain world capable of satisfying the desires of your immortal spirit; but you do not clearly comprehend what there is in religion to satisfy all our desires. You seek the Lord; but you do not yet feel as if you had found Him. You probably spend much time in reading the scriptures; but sometimes they seem obscure and unintelligible, sometimes dry and uninteresting. You often pray; but do not always find either comfort or sweetness in prayer. Sometimes you feel as if you could give up every earthly enjoyment for one glimpse of that “love of Christ which passeth knowledge;” and at other times it seems to you very foolish and unreasonable to pretend to more religion than other people. This is what many feel, who are beginning to be very anxious about religion. I cannot help indulging a strong hope, that you will soon find in the love of Jesus all that you want to make you happy; only let me beg of you to seek him simply, under the conviction that we can neither do nor think any thing good without Him; that “every thought is evil, only evil, and that continually;” and that, while we continue in this state, we cannot understand the things of the Spirit of God, because they will appear “foolishness to us.” The change which every person must undergo, before they can truly receive Christ as their Saviour, is described in terms no less striking — “Ye must be born again.” “If any man be in Christ Jesus, he is a new creature; old things are passed away; behold! all things are become new!” In other parts it is described as a change from death unto life, “from darkness to light, from the power of Satan to God.” But I will not multiply instances. Surely such a change as this cannot be the cold, worldly, heartless religion, with which the generality of people sit down satisfied! Surely it is a change we have no power to make in ourselves. When God “breathed into man’s nostrils the breath of life,” it was a wonderful act k 2 of his creating power. But when he breathes spiritual life into the soul of one “dead in trespasses and sins,” this seems more wonderful; and yet this is what we vainly think we can do ourselves. But if we can be once convinced, that we are so utterly worthies and sinful, that none but Christ can save us, then we shall go to Him for every thing. If we want repentance, wisdom, holiness, salvation, all these are His to give; He promises to give them to every one that asks Him. O be much in prayer to this precious Saviour! He has declared, that none shall seek Him in vain. Those who leave off trusting in themselves, and cling with a single and undivided heart to the cross of Christ, and “count every thing else but loss, so they may win Christ and be found in Him” — what words can describe their blessedness! How true it is, that those who seek happiness in any thing except Christ Jesus, are “hewing out to themselves broken cisterns that can hold no water!” Come then, my most dearly loved friend, come with me to “the fountain of living waters” — come to Him who has said — “If any man thirst, let him come to me, and drink” — as if he had said — ‘If there be any poor sinner, who has begun to find out that the pleasures of this world cannot quench his thirst after happiness, if he long for something less vain and empty and unsatisfying, let him come unto me.’ Do you desire to give yourself to Christ, to make him your all in all ] Then let not any fears or misgivings keep you away from him, for he” waits to

be gracious” to you. Your sins need not keep you away; for he came to call sinners. He calls Himself the friend of sinners; and indeed, till you are taught by His Spirit, how exceedingly sinful you are, you cannot prize Him as you ought. Let me intreat you often to dwell on the “precious promises” of Scripture. Remember, that “in Him all the promises are yea and amen;” and if we plead in His name for the fulfilment, the truth and faithfulness of God (who cannot lie) stand engaged to perform them for us. There is one in particular which seems to me full of encouragement; it describes so fully the state of heart we want, and promises to give what it describes to those who inquire of the Lord. See Ezek. xxxvi. 25 — 37.’

The next letter is of a later date, and implies a more distinct advance of Christian knowledge in her friend.

‘Let me use the privilege of friendship, and entreat you to look less at the dark side of your prospects, and more at the

MARY JANE GRAHAM. Ill

unspeakable mercies with which God has favoured you; particularly that he has given you the greatest blessing he has to give, in calling you to become his reconciled child by faith in Christ Jesus. ° And having given you an interest in his Son, “shall he not with him freely give you all things’?” — all things that are good for you, my dear friend. If therefore your wishes are not satisfied, it must be because it is not for your good to satisfy them. Your lot has been chosen out for you by one, who is infinitely wise and kind, as the very best for yoi# present and eternal happiness, and “He doeth all things well.” You will ultimately find peace in religion; I am sure you will; and in the mean time is it not a blessing, that you are not permitted to take up your rest here, and find the false destroying peace, which so many experience in worldly enjoyments’? What if you were to ask God in Christ’s name for the fulfilment of such a promise as this — “Behold I will bring in health and cure, and I will heal him, and will reveal unto him the abundance of peace and of truth” would he deny you1? Considering that no promise of Scripture “is of private interpretation” — not meant for one part of the church, or one age of it, but for the whole flock of Christ now, and every member of it, and therefore for you — considering too, “that all the promises of God are yea and amen to us in Christ Jesus;” and that Christ himself has said — “If ye shall ask any thing in my name, / will give it you’” — what encouragement have we to take these promises to God in prayer, to wrestle with him, and declare with holy confidence — “I will not let thee go, except thou bless me!” Oh! he would bless you; and his “blessing maketh rich, and he addeth no sorrow with z7.” My dear friend, you must come to God thus, and “give him no rest,” till he grant you the promised blessing. You must not take a denial. May the Spirit of prayer be abundantly poured out upon you! It is our privilege to take our sins and sorrows, and cast them upon Christ: he has already borne their agonizing weight; why should we groan under them’? “Cast thy burden upon the Lord.” Would that I could act as I advise! But I fall very, very far short. Even my desires after this state of mind are miserably faint and cold; but let us both take comfort in the reflection, that we are accepted in Christ; “complete in him;” beloved, not for our deserving, but for his ,- and his are “the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever.” When we fail, Christ remains the same; and it is for the sake of what he has done, that God will accept us; not for any thing we can do; or we might indeed go mourning all the day long.’

These letters mark the general tone of Miss Graham’s correspondence in affectionate counsel and scriptural encouragement. The case to which they primarily refer is among the most difficult and delicate within the compass of Christian instruction. No service is more valuable to the sincere but unintelligent inquirer than to enter into his case with tenderness, forbearance, and anxious consideration of his dimculties. Vague and ill-defined directions throw little light upon his path. Even the primary and immediate counsel, guiding him to the Saviour of sinners, needs a present and particular application to his individual state. His difficulties will indeed vary according to his simplicity, sincerity, and earnestness. But under all circumstances, the instant duty of believing in Christ must be inculcated. No deficiency of spiritual apprehensions must*be allowed to hinder immediate attention to “this work of God.”* The Gospel was not intended to answer

* John vi. 28,29. This instant duty of believing is however questioned by some of our modern religionists — either as seeming to imply a natural power to believe, or as inconsistent with the manifest inability to believe without. a divine principle. But our Lord inculcated the duty upon the unbelieving multitude in this passage in answer to their professed inquiry upon the subject of duty. He subsequently enforced it upon the same class of hearers (John xii. 36, with 37, 40.) Besides — as sin is the neglect or resistance of obligation, if faith be not the duty of the unconverted, unbelief is not their sin — consequently — not what the Gospel repeatedly declares it to be — the primary ground of their condemnation (John iii. 18, 19; xii. 48; xvi. 8, 9. 2 Thess. ii. 10, 11.) This system of measuring duty by ability, and of admitting inability to cancel obligation, equally annuls every bond of love and obedience by which man is connected with his God, but for which he is no less incapacitated than for the spiritual exercise of faith. It argues also a forgetfulness of the justice of the divine requirements, and of the responsibility of that sinful inclination, which constitutes the principle of his impotency to comply with them. The commission of the Gospel is an universal call both to repentance and faith. (Mark i. 15; xvi. 15, 16. Actsxvii.30.) The cross of Christ is held up to the whole world. (Isaiah xlv. 22.) The Holy Spirit emjrtoys its awakening and attractive influence as the means of quickening sinners to life. (John xii. 32.). Thus die grace of God is glorified, while the unbelief of man excludes him from the free justification of the Gospel, and consequently leaves him without excuse.

the question — “What shall I do, that I may inherit eternal life?” But it affords a satisfactory reply to a question more nearly interesting to the condition of a sinner — “How can man be just with God!” It opens by the instrumentality of faith a free, immediate, universally accessible way to favourable acceptance with our offended God. No perplexing course of preparatory discipline is required. All are invited without limitation, without delay. Infinite mercy and grace are provided for infinite need. Only those that feel will ask; and all that ask shall have. Thus a sense of sin is the prerequisite, without which no man will come (for “the whole need not the physician;”) but it is no part of the warrant to come. The Scripture has no where prescribed any uniform rule, or measured out the precise extent of necessary conviction. All constitutions are not formed alike; and therefore pungency is no certain proof of sincerity. Many are brought without a process of painful exercise to a simple and clear reception of the truth. The soul is as welcome to Christ at the first moment of invitation as at any successive period; and protracted conflict manifests only the stubborn power of unbelief; a sin, which the Spirit of God will not fail to apply as matter of humiliating conviction. To insist therefore upon a determined measure or intensity of well-defined conviction as a preparation of faith, is an infringement upon the freeness and simplicity of the Gospel. The law also, as the instrument to produce this conviction, must be used in immediate connection with Christ. He is the life; and if he be not set forth at the commencement, there will be only the temporary and unsatisfactory change from a state of indifference to a state of bondage, without any effective principle of holiness or of privilege, and the man will be satisfied without that entire simplicity of faith and self-dedication so indispensable to salvation. Even in the exhibition of Christ, the mind of the inquirer must be diverted from a too minute and anxious analysis of its own exercises of faith to a fixed contemplation of the glorious Person presented to view. The emphasis of the invitation is, “Look — Come unto me.” The first sensation of rest will be connected not with a precise knowledge of our own feelings, but with an entire dependence upon the work of Christ. Though self-examination is intimately connected with the prosperity and advance of the Christain life; yet it must never be employed to originate our peace and hope in the Gospel; but to ascertain the reality of our hope; to detect false confidence and backsliding; to bring to us the warranted enjoyment of “the testimony of our consciences,” in regard to the consistency of our profession; and to mark our progress in knowledge, experience, and practical devotedness. One further point, connected with the case of the inquirer is of. indispensable moment. He may be assured that there is no indefinitely future period; no “day of the Lord’s power” more favourable for his acceptance than the present; and that no deficiency of knowledge can acquit him of the obligation of an instant surrender of himself to God. This very moment the Lord demands his unreserved faith, and his whole heart; and every delay brings a fresh charge of guilt, widens the distance, and increases the difficulty.

The following letter, written about two months before her death, gives an interesting view of her own search after truth, and marks a discriminating apprehension of the Gospel.

Stoke Fleming, Oct 1830. * I am grieved that you should for a moment imagine that

I think our dear must be lost, because she does not

subscribe to the doctrines of Calvin. I do not myself so much as know what all Calvin’s doctrines are, or whether I should subscribe to them myself. I have read one book of Calvin’s, many parts of which pleased me much, I mean his Institutes, which Bishop Horsley says ought to be in every clergyman’s library. Further than this I know nothing of Calvin, or his opinions. I certainly did not form one single opinion from his book, for I had formed all my opinions long before from the Bible. You may remember my telling you that some years ago 1 declined greatly, almost entirely (inwardly) from the ways of God, and in my breast was an infidel, a disbeliever in the truths of the Bible. When the Lord brought me out of that dreadful state, and established my faith in his word, I determined to take that word alone for my guide. I read nothing else for between three and four months, and the Lord helped me to pray over every word that I read. At that time, and from that reading, all my religious opinions were formed, and I have not changed one of them since. I knew

nothing then of Calvin. I have said so much, dear,

because I think it a very wicked thing to do, as you seem to think I do, to call Calvin or any man “master on earth,” or to make any human writer our guide in spiritual things. Christ only should be our master, and his word our guide, and his Spirit our teacher; and that Holy Spirit will be given to us if we ask for it. But I suppose by the doctrines of Calvin you meant the doctrine of predestination, which Calvin, in common with many other of God’s saints, believed and preached. My belief and settled opinion about predestination, you will find expressed more clearly than any words of mine can do in John vi. 37, 39, 65. Rom. viii. 28 — 30. Rom. ix. Eph. i. 3 — 6, 11. 2 Thess. ii. 13, 14. 2 Tim. i. 9, 10. Titus i. 1, 2. 1 Peter i. 2 — 5. 1 John iv. 19. Rev. xvii. 8. John xv. 16. I also join in every word of the 17th Article of our church; so much so, that if asked my opinion about predestination, I should give it in those very words, from the impossibility of finding any others, which in so short a space expressed my meaning so well. But this article is only of human authority, therefore I should bring forward the proof from the Scriptures of that God who cannot lie. I have just given you a few texts as they struck me. They are, I believe, enough for my present purpose: but detached texts lose much of their power: it is the whole sense of the whole Bible that should determine us; and since “the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God, (for they are foolishness to him),” let us pray to become spiritual, “that we may know the things that are freely given us of God.” The above texts will give you an idea of my opinion. Indeed some of them are exceedingly plain, and strong, and full, in their account of the doctrine. I endeavour to receive them as a little child, in their plain literal meaning.

‘But to return to our dear; I think the doctrine of

election essential to the comfort and consistency of our walk with God: because I deem it essential to receive the whole Bible, and every truth contained in every part of the Bible, without partiality or gainsaying. But I do not consider a belief in the doctrine essentially necessary to salvation. I do consider a simple trust in the atonement and righteousness of Jesus Christ as absolutely necessary to salvation. If then,

dearest, your beloved friend and mine too, (for I do most

sincerely love her) possesses this simple reliance on the death and obedience of Christ for salvation, doubt not that she will be saved; though she may not yet have been able to receive those high and humbling doctrines which very few Christians do receive in the commencement of their course, and which some cannot to the very end thoroughly embrace. Many, however, I think embrace the actual doctrine, though they cannot bear the words predestination, election, &c. A strange dislike, since both words happen to be taken from scripture.

My beloved -would have been quite distressed, had I

supported the doctrine of predestination in my conversations with her under the name of predestination; and yet we often conversed on the thing itself and subjects connected with it; nor did I find her ideas differ greatly from mine. “Other foundation can no man lay than that is laid, Jesus Christ.” All who are built on this foundation, who are thus founded on the Rock of Ages, must be secure. “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.” Acts xvi. 31, &c. “He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life; and he that believeth not the Son, shall not see life; but the wrath of God abideth on him.” John iii. 36. See also John iii. 15, 16, 18; v. 24; vi. 40, 47; xi. 25, 26, &c.’

The two next letters are of the class of those which were formerly adduced in illustration of her clear apprehensions of Scriptural truth. The first letter introduces some incidental notices of interest. It seems to have been written to the correspondent whom she had formerly addressed on the subject of Christian study.

Stoke Fleming, Jan. 4, 1827.

4 My own dear Friend,

* Every letter I receive from you gives me fresh cause for thankfulness, and increases my hope, that you have learnt of Him who teacheth, and will certainly never leave you till he has given you that “joy and peace in believing,” which all His children sooner or later experience. I trust that the love of my God to you will be a constant source of thanksgiving and self-abasement to me; for Oh! what thanks can I render to’Him, for the love with which He is now calling you out of the kingdom of darkness into the kingdom of His dear Son 1 And how can I ever be sufficiently humbled, when I reflect how unfaithfully and inconsistently I have acted towards you? One instance in particular is now fresh in my memory. You once asked me to write to you; and I put it off from day to day, till at last 1 wickedly persuaded myself that I could not do it at all. I hope you will forgive this cruel neglect, “as God for Christ’s sake has forgiven me;”

and that we shall be enabled henceforth to love and help one another in His strength, and for His sake.

‘Dear, how can you say that I am your dearest

friend, and only comforter 1 I glory in the thought, that you have a Friend, whose love is stronger than death, and a Comforter, who is able to make you rejoice with joy unspeakable; and to whose blessing and influence we must refer it, that such poor, helpless, and sinful creatures as we are, can ever be of the slightest use in helping or comforting each other. I know you long to call Jesus your friend, and the Holy Spirit your Comforter; and where does this longing come from] Not surely from your own evil heart; for from that corrupt source can proceed nothing but hatred or indifference to God and His ways. Besides, it is a feeling you once knew nothing of. Believe me — rather believe the Scriptures when they say — that every desire of the soul after God, is inspired by Himself, and is the fruit of His own free love in Christ jesUs — “I have loved thee with an everlasting love; therefore with loving kindness have T drawn thee.” “Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you.” “No man can come to me, except the Father which hath sent me draw him.” “All that the Father giveth me shall come to me; and him that cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out.” Now, do you not feel yourself drawn towards God 1 Does not your heart sometimes choose Christ in preference to every earthly blessing 1 Do you not come to Christ in prayer, beseeching Him ,to receive you? And do not the texts 1 have mentioned, with a thousand others of the same import, warrant the inference — that you “come” to Christ, because “the Father has given you to Christ,” and draws you to Him; that He “draws you with loving kindness, because he has loved you with an everlasting love;” and finally, that He will “never cast you out?” My dear friend, I would not, indeed I would not, flatter you with a false hope. 1 know of nothing so melancholy as the way in which the world say — “Peace, peace, to themselves, when there is no peace” — no rational ground of hope. But the hope of a soul convinced of sin, renouncing all trust in its own righteousness, and casting itself on the mercy of Jesus, cannot be a vain or presumptuous hope; because it is founded on the word of God. You say, you feel so wicked and so worthless, that you dare not hope. Now till you felt yourself to be both exceedingly wicked and worthless, you could not be a fit object of Christ’s grace, who says — “They that be whole. need not a physician, but they that are sick.” “I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.” I know that many, when they first come to a sense of their own sinfulness, think something in this way: ‘Christ will never receive so vile a sinner as I am; I must repent, and pray, and try to make myself a little better; and then perhaps I may deserve his favour.’ Alas! they know not that repentance and prayer are his free gifts, and instead of praying for the pardon we receive, are themselves a part of it. “Would it not have been as reasonable for the leper to have waited, till he could cleanse himself from his leprosy; the blind man, until his sight was improved: or the sick of the palsy, till he could take up his bed and walk, before they would come to Jesus to be healed? The first chapter of Romans, from the 18th to the 32d verse gives an awful description of the state of every man’s heart by nature; and though education and the restraints of civilized society have prevented the breaking out of sin in the dreadful and open way in which it was indulged among the heathen, still I think every person awakened to a sense of sin, will perceive in it, as in a glass, their own image; at least they will acknowledge, that the seed of every sin is in their heart, especially that most unnatural and truly diabolical sin, of” worshipping and serving the creature more than

the Creator.” And lest we should imagine that living in a country where God is known, and joining in acts of outward religion can make the heart really better, till it is converted to God; the Apostle goes on, in the second and third chapters, to prove that the Jew is no better than the Gentile; that “there is no difference; every mouth must be stopped, and all the world become guilty before God.” And it is immediately after having given us such an awful view of our state, in the sight of God, that he goes on to hold out free and unconditional salvation, to all who simply trust in the death and righteousness of Christ. But I doubt not, you will soon perceive to your comfort, how very free the offers of grace in the gospel are. I cannot forbear mentioning one more instance; it is in the parable of the two debtors in the seventh of Luke — “And when they had nothing to pay, he frankly forgave them all.” It is when we are brought to this feeling, that we “have nothing to pay,” that our hearts are in a fit state to receive with eagerness and delight the “frank forgiveness” of our Saviour; then we give Him all the glory of it. Surely you and I feel ourselves to be in the situation of the debtor who owed most. We have nothing; to pay; and sometimes I think I can even rejoice in this extremity of poverty; since it hides pride and boasting from me, and makes the mercy of God appear so divinely infinite. I. do not know, that you have any reason for fancying that you shall die young; but though the thoughts of death are useful to all, and delightful to those whose sins are forgiven for JesuV sake; I think we ought rather to be willing to live as long as our heavenly Father pleases, in hopes of being the means of bringing others to him.

* I am glad you like your pupils so much. I feel incompetent to give you any advice about them: I believe the great thing is to pray much for them, that they may have that grace, which alone can make the Sabbath a delight. We should also pray with them, and let them see that we are very anxious about their salvation, and that, though we attach much importance to their progress in other things, we look upon them all as nothing in comparison with the knowledge of Christ. Children sometimes take much pleasure in answering a few simple questions on a chapter they have read; and in this way very little children may be made to comprehend a great deal. Many of the parables, types, and emblems in Scripture are particularly adapted to their capacities, and afford them great delight. I have seen a little child, who would have been tired to death with a serious discourse, listen for a long time with unwearied attention, whilst being told in its own childish language, how Christ compared himself to a vine, and his people to living branches; or how Christ as the good Shepherd, “gathers the lambs with His arms, and carries them in His bosom.” While explaining these things, they should be taught the text or texts referred to; that so a portion of God’s own word may be fixed on their hearts. I think, however, there is nothing more important than to stop as soon as the attention of our little hearers seem to tire. Sometimes the eldest may be set to teach the youngest some verse or hymn. Scripture prints also form a very good resource for Sunday employment. Children are so artless, that we can soon perceive, what pleases them most; and whatever kind of religious conversation or employment seems particularly to interest them, should be brought out on Sunday, to make it as pleasant a day as possible to them.

1 I hardly know how to say a word against Jeremy Taylor; he is a great favourite of mine; but I cannot help thinking his views of the doctrine of Christianity savour too much of monastic severity, and too little of the simplicity which is in Christ Jesus. The times he wrote in may account for these inconsistencies in the writings of so holy a man; but 1 think they are calculated to increase the melancholy of any one who is unhappy about religion; because there is something so obscure and confused in his ideas upon many important points.

I must now, my dear, bid you farewell; I need not

tell you what pleasure it gives me to hear from you; nor how earnestly I wish, that you may find the peace and comfort you are seeking. My earnest prayer is that the promised “Spirit of trutrT” may be with you, to “guide you into all truth.” The weaknesses you own to me are exactly what I have felt, and do ieel myself; but God will overcome them for us, and enable us to “bring every thought into subjection to the obedience of Christ.” I am sometimes afraid, that my using so much Scripture language, may appear like cant or affectation to you; but I do it, because, when I express myself in the sense, and as much as possible in the words, of Scripture, I have less fear of misleading you, or of mixing my own earthly ideas with the pure and heavenly truths on which we are conversing.’

Again —

Stoke, Jan. 22, 1827.

‘Though I have not yet heard of you, I am sure that all things are going on well with you, since the very God of love is become your God, and will be your Father and guide for ever. May you know more and more every day of his forgiving love, and be led to feel that you are with Jesus, “who has loved you, and washed you from your sins in his own blood!” O my dear friend, my heart is full of joy, when I think that the Lord has taught you to seek happiness in Him. “Blessed are they that hunger and thirst after righteousness” — says this precious Saviour — “for they shall be filled.” Therefore from his own words I have a warrant to call you “blessed;” and if he has given you himself, I care not what else he takes from you; knowing, as I do, that you can want nothing that is good for you, while the Lord of life and glory is yours. What a blessed prospect lies before you! The same Spirit that has been showing you the vanity and sinfulness of your own heart, will not stop short there. No: He will “guide you into all truth; He will take of the things of Christ, and show them unto you:” He will” shed abroad the love of

God in your heart:” He will, in His own time, “fill you with joy and peace in believing;” He will bring you on “from strength to strength,” and “from glory to glory,” till at length He removes you hence, to that heaven, where you shall see Christ as He is, be like Him, and dwell with Him for ever. Now you have nothing to do but to live upon the fulness of Jesus, casting away your own righteousness, which is no better than filthy rags: your own strength, which is mere weakness; and your own wisdom, which is foolishness with God. You must put forth the hand of faith, and lay hold of the righteousness of Jesus, which He offers you as His free gift, Rom. v. 15, 21 — His strength, which is sufficient for you; 2 Cor. xii. 9, 10. Eph. vi. 10. Phil. iv. 13. 1 John iv. 4 — and his wisdom, which is also freely yours for Christ’s sake. 1 Cor. i. 30. Only go on asking him for more, more, still more of his precious love. He cannot deny it you; for he has said, “that whatsoever ye shall ask in his name, he will give you.” You cannot ask too much; for think of the great things the apostles asked, Eph. iii. 14 — 19; yet he concludes all by saying,” Unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think.1’’ Dear

, is not ours a happy lot 1” If God be for us, who

can be against us1? Who shall lay any thing to the charge of God’s elect? It is God that justifieth :°who is he that condemneth 1 It is Christ that died; yea, rather, that is risen again; who is even at the right hand of God; who also maketh intercession for «s.” Here is our anchor of hope — Christ died; Christ is risen; Christ intercedes. When Satan, or our own evil conscience accuses us, we are too apt to look for comfort to something in ourselves. In this we shall always be disappointed; if we look to Christ, we never shall. May he teach us by his own Spirit how to live by faith in him. I long to hear from you, and to know whether you have yet been able to find peace in God. This precious gift will, I know, be bestowed upon you. Do tell me all you feel, and let me often have a letter from you; for, believe me, scarcely anf thing can afford me greater pleasure.

* I pray that your communications may always bring me the happy news, that you are more and more devoted to our dearest Lord, in whom, may we, my dearest friend, become daily more united. There is a common friendship which is very delightful; but there is a communion of spirit, peculiar to those who love the Lord Jesus; and this is what I trust

He will grant to us; for it will last, when common friendship has been long withered by the hand of death. May you be blessed with every spiritual blessing, and rooted and grounded in love. This is the prayer of, &c.’

The next letter exhibits accurate discrimination, and a high standard of Christian Experience.

‘I was much interested, my dearest friend, in what you said about mingling earthly with heavenly feeling. It is a difficult question, and one which I am sure I am not fit to answer. Only I think, we may in some degree know whether our love is of the right kind or not, by asking ourselves wher ther it really is God that we love in our friends, and in our communion with them: whether we love those that are in Christ, incomparably more than those who are not in him; and whether after all we could give up the society of the very best and dearest of them all, rather than lose one particle of God’s favour. Surely we may love our friends, and that most dearly, for God requires it of us; but then “he that loveth father or mother more than him, is not worthy of him.” Love to our friends seems the purest earthly feeling. Yet I think, if we find ourselves enjoying devotion in its social privileges, more than in personal communion with God, our devotion cannot have been altogether of a spiritual character. But while we lament over the weakness and inconsistency which spoil our holiest actions, and defile the sweetest affections God has given us, let us take comfort in the thought, that “we have not an high priest, who cannot be touched with a feeling of our infirmities,” “He knoweth our frame, he remembereth that we are dust;” and (what should raise our gratitude to the highest pitch) he himself has been made dust, like unto our miserable dust in all things, except sin, on purpose that he might be able to “have compassion on the ignorant, and on those who are out of the way.” There is such a clear view given to us in the Epistle to the Hebrews of the twofold nature of the Lord Jesus, that I derive unspeakable comfort from studying it. Scarcely any book makes me see so clearly that he is the Lord God, “dwelling in light inaccessible, whom no man hath seen or can see;” and yet that he is” .bone of my bone, and flesh of my flesh;” able to enter into my feelings, to pity my weaknesses, and to sympathize with me in my temptations. O if we could but dwell upon this wonder more! it is “the wisdom of God, and the power of God.” “Angels desire to look into it;” “the spirits of the just” are for ever learning more about it; and I know of nothing so likely to make the souls of God’s people here like those who are above, as the continual contemplation of this marvellous love of God, in manifesting himself in the flesh. Dear M., how soon we shall see him face to face, “whom having not seen we love!” Let us seek to become intimately acquainted with him here. Let us be often conversing with him, and always near to him, that he may not have to say to us; “I never knew you.” He will never say this to us; but our watchful enemy may in some dark hour suggest such a thing to us; and then how delightful to be able to refute such a suggestion, by the memory of all the intimate communion we have enjoyed with Jesus; to be able to appeal to this dearest friend himself, that so far from never having known him, we have known, desired, loved nothing else in comparison of him. Would that this were my case now! But I feel as far away from Jesus, as if he were quite a stranger to my soul. My heart seems but to backslide; and I cannot help continually thinking of that bitter complaint of Job’s: “O that I were as in months past, as in the days when God preserved me; when his candle shined upon my head, and when by his light I walked through darkness.” Still I know that God “will heal my backsliding, and love me freely;” for though I am changed, “he changes not.” But how strange it is, that our hearts should ever be so alienated from God, after having once known how sweet it is to love him! Surely the character of long-suffering, so often given to

God in the Scripture, has never been manifested by any one in so many instances as to me. Let us not forget, dearest M — , to pray for one another, “that our hearts may be knit together in love, and unto all riches of the full assurance of understanding,” that we may daily increase in the “knowledge of him, whom to know is life eternal.”?

The interesting tone of Christian simplicity which the following letter breathes, is worthy of remark.

August 4, 1825. * You will perhaps be surprised to receive a letter so soon after my last. But I feel this morning an irresistible wish to write to you, to which I was moved whilst praying for you; and in the strength of Jesus I will speak to you only of him. Perhaps I shall to-day receive a letter from you: I shall be very glad, because I am so anxious to know that you have devoted yourself in the fullest manner to him, who gave up

his life for you. My dear -, I do not know whether you

are feeling with me; but it is a cheering hope to me, that I, who have so often encouraged you in the greatest sin which a redeemed soul can commit; that of indifference to the service and love of the Redeemer may now be an instrument in his hands to animate you to very different feelings. We have given way to a very unfaithful spirit in our fears, and in our repugnance to speak in his name. Let us only believe, that when he grants us the inestimable privilege of carrying to any one the blessed news of his gospel; “it is not we that speak, but the Spirit of our Father which speaketh in us.” This feeling that we are nothing, but that he is every thing in us, would give us a confidence full of joy, and at the same time without pride. It is indeed the height of happiness to follow him like a little child, to live in Christ and out of ourselves. Oh! had I but a constant sight of his love! but he “is faithful, who will stablish us, and keep us from evil.” Let us confide in him; let us tell him that we are not able to move a single step towards him, that we cannot love him, nor believe in his name. His goodness will allure us, his power preserve us, his strength will be given us in exchange for our weakness, and we shall find an indescribable delight in being able to do all in Christ.’

To her cousin she writes in this affectionate and encouraging strain: —

November 27, 1827.

1 Let me tell you, my dear friend, how sincerely and affectionately I sympathize with you in the feelings you express with regard to the most important of all subjects. My dearest cousin, go on seeking. There are pleasures, rivers of pleasures, whereof the true Christian drinks with unspeakable delight; and in his own time Jesus, the good Shepherd, will lead you to these fountains of living water. Already he, who “called his own sheep by name, and leadeth them out” from the world of sin, has called you by his own word, speaking to your soul. Do but be willing, as Levi, “to rise up, leave all, and follow him;” and you will find that he will lead you in the pleasant and peaceful way. For every vain pleasure that he calls upon you to give up, he will give a thousand solid and real pleasures, which it hath not entered into the worldling’s heart to conceive.’

The next letter, written to her cousin, marks the instruction, obligation, and encouragement connected with the hour of “trouble,” that time “to which man is born,” and, when to the unhumbled and unsanctified mind, the resources of the world often aggravate suffering, instead of contributing support.

March 20, 1825. * Our meeting, my dear friend, must be deferred to a future time, if ever it takes place in this world. But there is another meeting, to which we may safely look forward, if we are the children of God through Christ Jesus; and this will be in the presence of our best and dearest friend, who so loved us, as to “purchase us with his own blood.” How happy, how very happy it would make me, to know that my much-loved cousin was making it the grand object of her life to seek for salvation through the all-sufficient Saviour; and that we were united, not only by the strong ties of relationship and affection, but also by that bond of the Spirit, which makes all the redeemed people of Christ to be of one heart and one soul! Let us pray for this one thing, to be devoted to the Lord Jesus; it is heaven begun on earth. -The severe trial with which it has pleased our gracious God to afflict us, has given us an additional reason to write vanity upon all human hopes and expectations: and I hope I may say, that it has driven us to seek for comfort in those things which alone can give any real relief to a mind under the pressure of grief. Painful indeed it is to speak about any thing, which brings with it such afflicting recollections. Yet 1 feel, that I cannot and must not leave it till I have entreated you, my beloved friend, to join me in seeking a “friend that sticketh closer than a brother,” whom no length of time, or adverse circumstances can take from us. Into his gracious ear we may pour all our complaints; “in all our afflictions he will be afflicted.” And one glimpse of his love will enable us to rejoice in the midst of tribulation. But there is one condition: “Give me thine heart.” He must have all or none. A divided heart he will not accept. A heart that indulges in any one sin, that cleaves to any one worldly vanity, can never be the residence of his pure Spirit; he must have the whole heart; every thought, every faculty, every affection must centre in him. And who is able to perform this condition 1 I am sure neither you nor I can; for we are carnal, and “the carnal heart is enmity against God.” Well then, my dear, let us simply believe on him to effect all this for us. Let us come to him as sinners; for “His blood cleanseth from all sin.” Let us come as wretched, and poor, and blind; and he “will fill our minds with joy and peace in believing,” will give us “gold tried in the fire, that we may be rich,” and will cause his Spirit to shine into our dark hearts, “to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.” True, we cannot love him of ourselves; but he can compel even our hearts to love him. O may he reveal himself to your soul, and give you such discoveries of his amazing love, as may constrain you to make him your “all in all.”

In another letter on the same subject, we find her taking her chair by the side of her afflicted friend, and, like a true daughter of consolation, “comforting her with the same comfort, wherewith she herself had been comforted of God.”

January 18*A, 1828.

* My very dear Friend,

1 A letter from informed me of the very heavy trial

you have sustained. I did not like immediately to intrude upon your feelings; and since then, illness has prevented my writing. How I have longed to be with you, and share your grief, though I am sensible of my inability to afford you any consolation. But I could at least have mingled my feelings with yours, and told you, what however you need not be told, that your losses and afflictions must ever be in a measure mine. My beloved friend, would that in partaking as I most sincerely do, of your sorrow, I could in any way lighten or alleviate it! But I rejoice in the thought, that faith has united you to one, who is the God of comfort; and his Spirit is the Comforter. May he shed abundantly of his precious influence into your heart and your dear sister’s at this trying time! May he “lift up the light of his countenance upon you” both! and that will turn your mourning into gladness. Perhaps this bereavement will lead you nearer to Jesus; for we have an unfailing promise, that “all things shajl work together for our good.” “Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, even as a father the son in whom he delighteth: as many as I love, I rebuke and chasten.” And then how sweet to be assured, that “in all our afflictions he is afflicted,” that in all our troubles he is near to help; that in all our bereavements he is ready to fill up with himself the painful dreary void, which is made in our hearts. My beloved friend, I do not say these things to you, “because you know them not, but rather because you know them,” and are, I trust, at this time living upon them. How vain were it to speak to you of earthly comfort under the heavy loss you have sustained! But this is the very time, when God’s children often drink deepest of heavenly consolation; and I trust it is thus with my precious friend. I know that our heavenly Father has afflicted you in very faithfulness; and though for the present your chastisement must seem “grievous” indeed to you, yet hereafter it shall bring forth in you “the peaceable fruits of righteousness.” In the mean time may you be taught to lay hold on the gracious invitation to “call upon God in the time of trouble!” Make David’s words your own — “From the end of the earth will 1 cry unto thee, when my heart is overwhelmed; lead me to the rock that is higher than I.” “What time I am afraid, I will trust in thee.” “My soul trusteth in thee, and in the shadow of thy wings will I make my refuge, until these calamities be overpast.” “In the day of my trouble I will call upon thee; for thou wilt answer me.” And may you, my dear friend, be able to apply to yourself the words of our God — “Behold, I have refined thee, but not with silver: I have chosen thee in the furnace of affliction.” “I, even I, am he that comforteth you — as one whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you.” “In a little wrath I hid my face from thee for a moment; but with everlasting kindness will I have mercy on thee, saith the Lord thy Redeemer.” I would not obtrude’ my own words on you upon an occasion like this. But I may hope that the Spirit of truth will bless his words to your comfort; so I fear not to tire you with the repetition, for they are always new — “O God, thou art my God.” Here is a balm for every wound; yes, he is your God. Wisdom and tenderness shall form the basis of all his dealings towards you; and he, who is so wise and so tender, is engaged to do you nothing but good all the days of your life. I did not mean to have written so much, knowing that even the sympathy of friendship may sometimes be an interruption to our own feelings. But I now leave off, begging you to accept the warmest affection of, &c.’

How delightful is the confidence which Miss Graham here expresses in the support of the simple word of God in the hour of affliction! Though her letter affords some of her own beautiful thoughts, yet her main effort is perceptible throughout; not to strain her mind to force out something original or striking, but to bring forward the encouraging promises of Scripture, as far more powerful than the product of her own thought. This is honouring the word of God.’’

The next letter relates personally to herself, and gives a lively description of her state of mind, with a happy transition from her own playful spirit, to a more serious and edifying strain.

April, 1827.

1 1 am sure that I am very old for my age. It is not common at twenty-four to live upon the past as I do; most people would rather feed upon pleasant hopes of the future, but that is a thing I never do without trembling. It is not that I have the least doubt of every thing being ordered for my happiness; but I dread passing my life in this painful uncertainty, and I think this requires more faith than to pass it in the most severe affliction. Besides, I am afraid of living in a kind of tertian fever; for either I am very hot or very cold. I am incapable of an equal temperament in any thing. A person who knows me this month, would not know me the next. I do not know myself; God knows me; he knows all my weakness, all my vanity; however, all this does not cause him to forsake me. When I stray, he seeks me; when I return, he receives me with tenderness; when I doubt, he assures me; when I am unhappy, he consoles me. Surely he can give me strength to devote myself wholly to him, and not to turn away again from his ways.’

Another letter affords a beautiful illustration of her spirituality of mind connected with the recollection of her literary pursuits.

Chudleigh, Sept. 1827.

‘You are then at, where you lead a very pleasant life,

but where you are not happy, because he who is your happiness no longer cheers you with his presence. I also am very gay. I am here to my heart’s content; and I am not happy, because I cannot find my God — my beloved. I find that we “are the salt of the earth;” but that this “salt has lost its savour, and is no longer good for any thing, but to be thrown away and trodden under foot of men.” But the infinite compassion of Jesus will not suffer it to be so with us, and therefore he causes us to feel incessantly bitter inquietudes, which will not suffer us to rest without returning to him. In the meantime we are both in a new place, which we shall perhaps never see again. Shall we quit this place without leaving there some savour of the name of Jesus Christ? It is delightful to be able to create recollections as exquisite as those awakened by the beautiful images of Petrarch and Tasso. But it is much more delightful to remember every place, where we have seen some soul converted to God; this recollection will solace us at a time when all the delights of our Tasso will appear but a vain dream. I do not say this, because I feel as I speak. I see it in my understanding, but it does not reach to my heart. However, I speak, because I desire to feel it, and that you should feel it too. I wish to love Tasso, and other studies, only for the love of God, and to give all to his service. But I love them too much for myself; and yet I do not think it would be right to give them up, since they may one day be of use to me.’

We will now present a few letters, which will introduce us to a nearer view of the exercises of her own mind. She appears to have been deeply harassed, in common with the great Apostle, with that painful conflict, which his own inspired pen has so graphically described in Rom. vii. — a chapter, which — though unintelligible to the world, and even to the merely external professors of the gospel — unfolds more or less of the secret history of every Christian’s heart. The following letter, of an early date, marks her mind exercised in the painful sense of her own deficiencies, while anxiously engaged’ in the pursuit of that knowledge, which was the basis of all that was valuable, both in her intellectual and spiritual character.

June, 1823. No — I have not yet regained my peace of mind. It is a guest which will not dwell in a soul so weak -and vain as mine. I have again read a passage in Mason. But I find, that although self-knowledge is the most excellent kind of wisdom a man can possess, yet there is a sort of self-knowledge which only debases and hardens the soul; and this is exactly the kind with which I am furnished. And whilst true self-knowledge introduces order and light into the soul, as when the sun enlightens the earth; the self-knowledge which I possess rather resembles the lightning which shines for a moment, and shows all the desolation which the storm M has produced, and which itself increases the desolation. To know oneself miserable, but not to be willing to use the means of being- happy; to know oneself a sinner, but to flee from and abandon the Saviour of sinners, has been a true description of my feelings.”

To her cousin she expresses some grounds of thankful recollection for Christians, who are called in “the days of their youth” to the service of their God and Saviour.

* My dearest,

‘I seem to have so much to say to you, that I scarcely know where to begin. I am not now afraid of indulging in a little effusion of my feelings to you, as they begin to sit less heavy upon my heart. I begin to feel a sort of assurance, that it will ere long be “with me as in months past, when the candle of the Lord shined upon my head.” Yet I cannot tell you that I enjoy any thing of really spiritual feeling. Oh! that has been too long stifled to awake at once to anything

like life and vigour.* Dear, let us be more careful than

we have hitherto been, not to quench the spark of Divine life in our hearts, not to suffer the love of the world to enter where the Holy Spirit has deigned to erect a temple to Himself. I must tell you the thought which struck me yesterday, and roused me more effectually than any thing for some time past has done. It was a sense of the blessedness of being called in our youth to the knowledge of God, now that our feelings are fresh, and our habits unformed; before we have entered into the pleasures, company, and temptations of the world. It seems as though we had through the mercy of our

*The writer feels it right to notice this sentence as a subtle form of legality, very prevalent with young Christians, and not unknown to exercised Christians in a higher stage of maturity. The chastisement of the rod is indeed numbered among the rich provisions of the Everlasting Covenant; and usually the Lord makes the backslidings of his children the instruments of his salutary correction. [Jer. ri. 19.] But let us never seem to dictate to him the mode of his discipline, and especially let us not limit the absolute and unbounded freedom of the gospel, which opens the -way of immediate and complete acceptance to those who deserve a more protracted banishment from his favour. The expectation of an indefinitely distant return paralyzes the present effort; while the freeness of mercy opens the door of instant hope for the most hopeless. [Isa. xliii. 23, 25,] and indeed produces the constraining motive to the first step of penitence. [Ib.xliv. 22.]

Saviour, been turned into the broad path of destruction while yet upon the threshold — before we could have a long and weary way of sin to retrace. Are not these mercies, which call for our warmest gratitude 1 Shall I tell you another light, which then struck me more forcibly than I had ever felt it before 1 Is it not a blessing to have been enabled to enter decidedly upon a life of religion, before we had formed any connexion contrary to it] Now every thing seems open before us. The narrow path has been for us divested of half its difficulties; and great will be our sin and misery, if we walk not in it with a cheerful devoted resolve, that every future step may be for his glory, who first led us into it.’

The next letter displays the jealous though exquisite enjoyment of her sources of legitimate pleasure in the work of God.

Hastings, July 1823. 1 1 am no longer sad, unless a pleasure too profound for laughter or gaiety can be called sadness. There are times when I feel unhappy, because I am so happy — because I can derive such exquisite enjoyment from objects which pass away in a moment, whilst the things of eternal duration make only a light and free impression on my soul. I cannot however forbid myself from enjoying the delights, which here present themselves every minute to my mind; and you must pardon me if I fatigue you with many absurdities.’

The following allusion to her early attainments cannot fail of interesting the reader.

‘There are periods in the life of every person, which have respect only to the intellect, but which affect however all the rest of the life, and to which may be traced up almost all the intellectual qualities which that person possesses. It appears to me, that the period to which my mind recurs with the greatest pleasure is that, when I began to learn Milton as a simple act of memory. What a low and unworthy motive! However, when my soul began to open, to understand a little his noble ideas, so entire a change was made in my inclinations and taste, that I can hardly believe myself to be the same person.’

The next letter gives a profitable application of Scripture, together with an interesting train of remark.

June, 1823. 1 One text of Scripture has lately dwelt much upon my mind, and seemed like a sentence of condemnation upon my worldly-mindedness and inconsistency. It is that short but expressive description of the conversion from sin — “And he rose up, and left all, and followed him.” Oh! what a warning, and yet by me unheeded warning! does it seem to rise and shake off these fetters of sloth and inactivity — to leave all, even the dearest friends, the most deeply-rooted habits, which can come in the way of this grand end, and to follow Jesus through affliction and difficulties, in all the meek simplicity and lowly dependence of a little child. May he give us strength thus to follow his loved footsteps! May he enable us to walk hand in hand, mutually encouraging and supporting each other, till we come to the presence of his glory, there to abide for ever! I well know the feeling you mention with regard to another world. But when thinking of this, I am unfortunately apt to reverse it, and to consider the past as a painful dream, and the present something too disagreeable to be real; while I look forward to future hopes and schemes, till the dreams of my imagination assume the shape of delightful realities: and in stretching forward to them, I forget, that it is only in the sober and continual routine of present duties, that I can hope to attain those delightful expectations.’

Her seasons of prayer appear to have been, in common with all Christians, times of severe conflict. The following extract, after alluding to the blots that too often deform the profession of the Gospel, alludes to this point:

Torquay, April 1, 1825.

* How many ways there are of dishonouring the Christian profession! some by ill humour; we by coldness; some by immoderate zeal; others by the fear of man. Oh! my dear friend, let us seek to ornament our profession; let us seek in the unlimited compassion of our good Shepherd pardon for our past extreme lukewarmness, and Divine strength to shake off the drowsiness which oppresses us. Not only the prayers which I offer for myself, but those which I offer up for you, seem to be covered with a cloud, through which they cannot penetrate. My prayers did I say ] I do not pray — I am frightened when I think of the state in which I am. If you are in a more spiritual frame, when at the feet of the Saviour, remember her who is gone so far away.’

To another of her correspondents she thus writes.

April 30, 1827. * I can hardly tell you what a strange state I am in — one minute longing after holiness so intensely, that I feel as if I should die if 1 did not get it: the next so full of vain thoughts, that I hardly know what real spiritual holiness is. I never had such clear views of the extreme depravity of my heart and life. Every day I learn something new about my helplessness, blindness, and dreadful wickedness. But though I can spread these things before God in prayer, I cannot mourn over them; or if 1 do, it is from a sense of my misery — not from a view of him whom I have pierced. Well! I know this hardness of heart is a part of the complaint under which I groan, and which will be removed by the great Physician. But I am sometimes confounded by the seemingly contrary answers I receive to prayer, though in the end 1 feel the dealings of God with me to have been wise and just. For instance; after having prayed much for a sense of sin, I seem to have been left to the power of it. I feel left to striv#with a great enemy, who tramples me with the greatest ease under, his feet. Let me not unjustly murmur against my dearest and wisest Saviour. For he leaves me not long at the mercy of my cruel adversary, but appears on my behalf often when I have the least expectation of it. One thing distresses me very much. It is so strange. I have for some time past scarcely ever enjoyed a spiritual sabbath. I often enjoy a sabbath on week days; but when Sunday comes (I mean the last three or four) all my spiritual feelings go; religion seems the dullest thing in the world, and vain thoughts the pleasantest; I cannot tell you how the comfort of the day is destroyed. It was the case the whole of yesterday till quite night, when the accidental opening upon this little verse of Toplady’s brought back the loveliness of Christ to my thoughts with such sweetness, and filled me with such longings after him, that for some time I could not sleep:

Less than thyself will not suffice,

My comfort to restore;
More than thyself I cannot crave,

And thou canst give no more.

O to be “filled with all the fulness of God!” to have “Christ dwelling in our hearts by faith!” to be temples of the Holy Ghost! To know that this is mine; and yet for want of faith I so often make my heart as a cage of unclean m 2 birds. My dearest friend, I have chosen this verse for my portion, my treasure in this world and the next. I recommend it to you; and I know God will give it to us, and abundantly fulfil our wishes above all that we can ask or think — Ezek. xliv. 28. What a glorious portion! Hard as my heart is, and blind as my eyes are, I see and feel a little of its excellency: but then so often my soul forgets her joy, looks back upon the world, and shrinks from the choice, which a few minutes before seemed so unutterably desirable.’ At another time she writes in the same strain.

May 15, 1827.

‘I think I would give up every prospect of worldly happiness that I have, or ever can have, to have these vain thoughts crucified and nailed to the cross of Jesus; and yet often, the more I want to be delivered from them, the ‘more obstinately I cleave to them, and I am so tired of praying against them. But the everlasting covenant fills me with hope and comfort, “I will put my fear in their hearts, that they shall not depart from me. I will put my law in their inward parts, and write it in their hearts.” ’

The next letter shortly afterwards is of a similar character. The spirit of tender carefulness that marks the closing allusion is worthy of special remark:

Stoke, June 2, 1827.

4 1 never wanted something to awaken and alarm me so much as I do now. I think I could be content to have some very great affliction, if it would but restore me to communion with God. I told you how much vain thoughts had tempted and annoyed me. When I last wrote to you, I felt confident of being soon made “more than conqueror through him that loved me.” But I have lately left off striving against them; and now having turned “the house of prayer into a den of thieves,” I know not how to cast them out again. Oh! that Jesus himself wrould drive them from his temple, though it be

with a scourge. With regard to, I feel it more and

more my duty to send my letter. But what I have written has been given to me, and I am afraid to finish it, lest I should in my worldly and unbelieving frame, mix something of my own with it.’

Yet her deep self-abasing apprehensions were not — except, possibly, at seasons of temptation — tinctured with despondency. From the tone of many of the preceding letters it is evident, that she knew the fulness of her resources in the promises of the Gospel: and in her prostrate humiliation of soul she did not cease to plead them to the uttermost of her warranted expectations. Thus she writes to her friend:

1 and I, and all took the sacrament yesterday. I never

felt so much — “the remembrance of these our misdoings is grievous; the burden of them is intolerable.” Is it not great and free love, which has made that a burden to us, which was once our delight; and that intolerable, which we once drank up like water 1 But what puzzles and alarms me is, that it should be sometimes intolerable, and yet not forsaken; and sometimes at the moment when I feel it to be intolerable, the struggle to give it up is more intolerable. The only thing that makes me feel a holy hatred of sin, is the thought, that, even when it seems sweetest to me, the eye of Jesus beholds it as an evil and a bitter thing; and I shall soon look upon it as he does. It is * that abominable thing which he hates.” It is that abominable thing which my wretched abominable heart loves. But then I do hate myself for loving it: and I do not know any thing I would not thank God for depriving me of, if it would tend to make me see sin as he does. I know this is the way you feel. Then let us take comfort in the thought that Jesus has done something for us, and to us who have (though so little) more will be given. “Open thy mouth wide, and I will fill it;” this often gives me comfort, (as indeed the whole of the eighty-first Psalm does:) but then we can no more open our mouths than we can fill them. God must open them wide, and fill them too. I feel so much comfort in thinking that we cannot open our mouths too wide; we cannot be too greedy of heavenly food, nor too grasping of heavenly riches. It is not presumption, but faith and humility, to expect that God for Christ’s sake will fill our earthen vessels with an eminent measure of his heavenly treasures; and the greatest eminence in Christian grace is to lose sight of self, to be willing to be least of all — to be nothing, and to look upon others as nothing, except as they are in Christ, and to look upon Christ as every thing. But oh, how far am I from this! Yet I do not despair, I have had glimpses of it. I trust it shall one day be the settled temper of both of our souls. Pray for me, and pray that I may be enabled to pray for you.’

The darkness and conflicts of her mind, were doubtless much increased by the active power of the enemy operating upon her enervated health. It is delightful, however, to mark the cheering irradiations of sunshine breaking in upon her, as marked in the following letter.

November 21, 1826.

* My beloved Friend,

‘I can almost say in the words of Scripture which you love, that the winter of my soul is gone, and that the sweet season of the springing of flowers, and of the singing of the birds is come, and that the voice of the celestial dove makes itself heard. I again begin to know what it is to walk, “as seeing him, who is invisible.” But do not suppose that I am in a very spiritual state. But the least ray of the light of his countenance appears immense, after so many weeks passed in darkness and rebellion. Oh! my, let us exert every effort to find again the lover and the beloved of our souls. Who knows but his own time may come, in which he will fully re7 veal himself to us? Let us pray for each other, that we may be wholly separated from the world and from ourselves, and more closely united to Jesus, in whose strength we shall be able to do all things. I cannot feel that deep repentance that I ought to feel for my repeated transgressions. But even in this I see the Divine love, because every strong emotion affects my health.’

Her views of the power of faith in prayer were most enlivening. * I never pray’ said she one day to a dear friend 4 without a promise.’ On that promise she was enabled to rely with entire confidence. Referring to the fulness and power of the Apostle’s prayer, Eph. i. 17, 18, and to that sublime doxology, chap. iii. 20, 21, she added, ‘What a prayer was this J How comprehensive! How much are we encouraged to ask for! Why then do we receive so little, but because our hearts are not sufficiently enlarged 1 We are wanting in faith. We do not expect enough from God. Wfe are straitened in ourselves. We are not straitened in God. How much more should we receive, if we “continued instant in prayer,” and “prayed without ceasing.” We are like the king of Israel, who, when commanded by Elisha to smite on the ground,’ provoked the wrath of the man of God, by smiting only thrice, and then staying. Whereas, had he smitten five or six times, he would not only have gained a temporary advantage over his enemies, but would have utterly destroyed them. Thus in our prayers we are contented with small success. We do not continue enough in the exercise. Even when our hearts have been somewhat enlarged, we have been too ready to desist, and rest satisfied without persevering, till we had received yet larger supplies of Divine grace.’

To another friend she wrote in the same enlarged spirit of Christian expectancy: —

May 15, 1827.

* I see something of the love of Christ, which I would not lose for worlds. But neither do you or 1 see half that may be seen of it even in this world, if ice ask in faith. Only let us not be afraid of expecting too much. Let us stretch our prayers and expectations to the very uttermost of what “we can ask or think;” and as sure as God is truth, we shall receive “exceeding abundantly above all that we can ask or think.” We shall receive all that Jesus can ask or think.’

Her views of Christian assurance, as set forth in the following letter, were clear and scriptural.

July 4, 1827. 1 My mind is in a state of declension and deadness to spiritual things, which is the more awful to me, from having enjoyed much communion with God a few weeks ago. I know not how to describe this state better than by saying, that prayer seems to be my burden; and evil thoughts my element; and that, instead of maintaining a continued conflict against this inclination, I feel a kind of obstinate hardened disposition in my mind, leading me to yield rather to Satan than to God. But even during all this time, my evidence of being a child of God, though not brought with any realizing sweetness to my heart, yet remains quite clear and unclouded to my understanding. But my evidence is this — not that I am now in a spiritual frame of mind (though that would be a delightful confirmation of it) — but that — let my state be what it will, — still I cannot forget, that I have cast myself a thousand and a thousand times upon the mercy of God in Christ Jesus. 1 have committed my soul to him; and, though I am unfaithful and unbelieving, yet I know that he abideth ever faithful, to keep that which has once been committed to him. Besides — I have told him again and again — and that with agonizing earnestness, — what a weak backsliding heart I have entrusted to his care; and that, if he does not hold me up, I

MEMOIR OF

shall fall. And now can I think that he has forgotten all my prayer for keeping, and all his promises of keeping- me, and that he means to let me fall for ever? Oh! I cannot think so. I cling to my assurance, and cannot but think, that as Christ — and Christ alone — is the foundation of it, it must be well-founded. I must think (I would say it with reverence) that God would cease to be “a faithful Creator,” if he could give up a soul that has been so often confined to his keeping. There is one verse, that in the darkest and coldest seasons comes with comfort to my mind. I know that I have often asked my Heavenly Father for bread. Shall I think he has given me a stone 1 I have asked him for the Spirit of truth. Shall 1 think he has put me off with the spirit of delusion?

This letter illustrates the true character of Christian confidence, as exclusively based upon the word of God. It is independent of external excitement. It is the reliance of faith upon the immutable engagements of Divine faithfulness. Much that passes under this name is the assurance of feeling, rather than of faith. The consolations of the gospel are be- *lieved, not because they are declared, but because they are felt. Hence, when the comfort is lost, the ground of confidence is destroyed. This, however, is an inversion of the Scriptural rule — walking by sight, not by faith — unlike a tried saint of old, who, when “walking in darkness, and having no light,” had learnt to “stay himself upon his God” — “Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him.”

Any encouragement however to be drawn from a past operation of faith must be carefully connected with its present exercise. Its first effort indeed linked the Christian’s heart in indissoluble union with his Saviour. Yet the principle must not be confined to a single act, by which at some former time he came to Christ. It is rather the continued habit of the soul, by which he is “coming” to Christ in constant motion. In Miss Graham’s case, the earnestness and intensity of her mind clearly marked the active though unconscious influence of the habit of faith, even while her recollection was fixed — perhaps too exclusively — upon some former and determinate exercise.

But was Miss Graham warranted in her strong assurance, in a state of conscious and acknowledged backsliding ] When we consider the character of her religion — self-suspicious, jealous of declension, earnestly longing for communion with God, content with no ordinary measure of conformity to the Divine image, we shall not be disposed to accuse her of presumption, or of a loose and careless profession. Hers was not a paralyzing- security — a self-indulgent repose — but an habitual quickness of spiritual discernment, and dutiful watchfulness. It was probably her intense solicitude for higher conformity to her Lord, that induced her, like holy Bradford, to pass this severe judgment upon herself, in the deep consciousness of her infinite distance from the ultimate point of attainment, and her sometimes apparent contrariety to it. Iniquity felt and iniquity allowed, are essentially different. When allowed, the soul is benumbed and blinded in comparative unconsciousness. When hated, the sensibility of its defilements is so keen, and the apprehensions of its guilt so afflicting, that even in a state of conscious acceptance, the soul is constrained to “write bitter things” against itself. The prostrate humiliating confessions of that holy saint of the Reformation just alluded to, in no degree hindered the peaceful rest of his soul upon the engagements of the faithfulness and love of his God.

We could not indeed but strongly discountenance an assured confidence in a state of open sin, or in any habitually allowed inconsistency with a Christian profession. Yet we are persuaded that a personal assurance has. often proved the only chain of love that has restrained the backslider from total apostacy — from saying — “There is no hope — for I have loved strangers, and after them will 1 go.” Often too has it been the appointed means of conviction and recovery from backsliding. A realized sense of a Father’s love in the tenderness and wisdom of merited chastening has pierced many a rebellious child with contrite sorrow, and has brought him back to his Father’s feet with simplicity, gratitude and confidence. He is humbled and encouraged under the most distressing consciousness of backsliding by the remembrance, that the principle and warrant of assurance is not in himself, and that his ground of confidence is unchangeably the same. 1 1 see,’ said Miss Graham on one occasion, ’ that God is my God in covenant. He is unchangeable, though I continually vary.’

The duty and importance of an elevated enjoyment of scriptural privilege, are delightfully inculcated in the following letter.

‘What a privilege (she observes, speaking of a blessed saint now in heaven), has Mrs. to be walking so closely with God, and enjoying so much of his presence! “Oh! that I” thus always “knew where I might find him, that I might come even to his seat!” But I never had so little of his presence as now, and if it sometimes returns for a moment, the emotions of my mind seem almost more than I can bear, so that I dread, even while I long for, their recurrence. The true remedy for all this would be, that settled quiet peace, which is the effect of the righteousness of Christ. But this I want faith to lay hold of as my own. I have been surprised lately at the slighting, and almost suspicion, with which friends appear to look upon spiritual peace and joy, as if it were rather a snare to be guarded against, than a privilege to be sought after. Yet surely — “Rejoice in the Lord always, and again I say, rejoice,” is as much a command as — “Thou shalt not kill — Thou shalt not steal.” And I know nothing except this “joy of the Lord,” which is said to be “our strength,” that can so fill the heart, as to leave no room for rejoicing in self or in the world. And do you not think, that the more of this holy joy is “shed abroad in the heart,” the more godly sorrow will dwell there 1 At least I find it to be so. They seem to me to be inseparable companions in our experience on earth. Were I to mention the sweetest ingredient in the cup of joy or sorrow (I scarcely know which to call it), that we are permitted to taste of here; it would be the melting of the heart, which springs from that immeasurable unworthiness, which gives us some faint conception how low Christ has stooped to save us! Why then should it be thought presumptuous to desire an abundant measure of the very thing which we are commanded to have 1 Why should this desire for “the peace of God which- passeth all understanding,” be construed into a dependence upon frames and feelings?

4 Sometimes I think we might have almost as much joy as there is in heaven, if we had but a holy boldness to ask for it, and to receive. We are not straitened in Christ; “but we are straitened in our own bowels;” so that, because joy is an undeserved guest in a heart defiled by sin, we dare not receive it as a lawful guest, though this heart has been cleansed with the blood of Jesus. But what will it be, my dearest friend, to open our eyes upon that world, where “perfect love casteth out fear” for ever! I try to conceive it sometimes, but I cannot. There is nothing I find so difficult, as to imagine entire deliverance from the spirit of bondage.

What will it be, to be “face to face” with Christ; to “see him as he is;” to “see the King in his beauty,” in “His own glory, in his Father’s glory;” and yet to look upon him without fear! We had need have these earthly tabernacles taken down first; as they never could sustain it. And yet this is that death, at which even renewed human nature shrinks; though, if we could view it aright, it is but the shutting out of fear, and the letting in of perfect love for ever.’

It is indeed to be feared, as Miss Graham has observed, that there is a class of professors among us, who depreciate the glowing exercises of Christian feeling. Their religion is rather of an intellectual, than of a spiritual character. They reason, explain, demonstrate, vindicate. But they are cautious of extremes. They realise the seriousness, importance, and restraints of the gospel, rather than its high privileges and constraining obligations. The exercise of their judgments, from this defect of a deep influence of spiritual religion, materially checks the healthful and animating glow of their affections. Their views of the fundamental doctrines are generally orthodox, and they maintain a correct external deportment. But they appear to have a scanty enjoyment of that new-created taste and element of pleasure, which is connected with the revelation of the glory of God to the soul. They seem to be little conversant with the varied exercises of a devotional habit of mind — such as holy delight in communion with God, lively contemplation of the Saviour, spiritual meditation and enjoyment of the sacred word, and heavenly aspiration of soul. Their ordinary Christian conversation is restrained from that intimate and free communication of spiritual sympathies, which infuses mutual warmth, refreshment, and energy in the endeavour, like Jonathan and David,” “to strengthen each other’s hands in God;” to unite in a closer intercourse with our Divine Saviour, and to invigorate our purposes of consecration to his service.

Such persons seem too little to consider the strong and important connexion of religion with the affections. But it is only their lively and powerful exercise that is at all proportioned to the vast expanse and grandeur of the subject. We find, therefore, religion in heaven, where it exists in the most refined purity and perfection, is much engaged in the delightful affections of joy and love, and in the fervent expressions of these feelings in everlasting praise. The scriptural exhibition of religion in the records of the most eminent servants of God, and in the rich display of the promises of Christ, is of the same glowing’ character.

The religion of the “man after God’s heart” was a religion of the affections. Every natural affection of his soul was filled with God. In his book of Psalms, written with the pen of inspiration for the public use of the church, we behold him — not describing the proper individualities of his own experience; but leading the worship of the universal church in the expression of deep humiliation, holy admiration, fervent love and joy in his God, earnest thirstings and pantings for his presence, delight in his ordinances, devout acknowledgments for his unbounded mercy, and exulting triumph in his faithful love. The book of Canticles also — however we may refrain from a minute consideration of some of its imagery — exhibits those vigorous exercises of spiritual affections, which are consonant to the experience of the lively Christian, and which excite in him no common measure of admiring, trusting, and grateful love to his Divine Saviour. The corresponding New Testament development of Christian privilege embraces those high and heavenly blessings, which draw out the affections of the soul into exciting employment — such as M peace with God,” constant “access” to his presence and favour; rejoicing in hope of his glory; glorying in tribulations, as the path-way thither; “the love of God, shed abroad in the heart; and the enjoyment of God through our Lord Jesus Christ;” all of which are presented to us in a single view, as our present portion and source of happiness.

If therefore we acknowledge the gospel in its faith and obligations, while defectively apprehending and estimating its privileges — if our judgment has been informed and established without a full and habitual exercise of the affections, we stand convicted of an imperfect reception of Christ, and of possessing only a partial interest in his unspeakably rich enjoyments. The class of professors, to whom we more immediately allude, are little aware of the extent of loss to their own souls, or of evil to the church, from their neglect of seating religion more deeply and powerfully in their affections. The spiritual tone of their religion is materially deteriorated. The refreshing influences of the ordinances is weakened. The Holy Comforter is restrained in his intimate communion with their souls. A want of tender sensibility for the most part characterizes their profession. The careless but discerning world mark no perceptible elevation of heavenly character, and are led to think that the promised privileges of the Gospel are a delusive paradise. And professors of their own class gladly take shelter under this lower standard of the cross, as a respectable Evangelical religion, precluding them from many inconvenient sacrifices, to which a more decided exhibition of Christian devotedness might have subjected them.

This restraint upon the affections, brings us therefore into a lower atmosphere of the gospel, unvisited with the full power of its holy influence. This may readily account for that conformity to the principles, habits, and conversation of the world, which to a considerable extent is connected with an Evangelical profession. The enlivening power of faith, operating through the medium of the affections, would secure a triumphant victory in every form of worldly conflict, and enable the disciples of Jesus boldly to confess their Master’s name, to glory in his cross, and to delight in his service. But this is the “one thing” that is too often “lacking:” and for which, as a principle of entire consecration to Christ, no substitute can be found.

Let us not however, while insisting upon the connexion of the gospel upon the affections, be supposed to advocate a religion of impulse or sensation. We are aware that excited feelings are no proof of holy affections. Much that passes under the name of religious feeling, is the ebb and flow of the animal emotions, wholly unconnected with the spiritual principle. Those emotions alone are of Divine origin, on which practical holiness are engrafted; and which are not sought for the pleasurable excitement of the moment, but as a medium for the exercise of heavenly affections, and for the exhibition of self-denying obedience. We remember also, that the first excitement of a religious feeling, is very different from that feeling as a fixed habit of the mind under the controul of a sound judgment. The example of the primitive Christians lead us to combine intelligence and energy with feeling, and therefore to suspect the most delightful emotions, which do not bring the steady light from heaven into the daily path, which do not communicate vigour, activity, and decision to the character, and that are not connected with a dedication of the whole man to the service of God. Religion is the dominant practical principle in the soul; and its practical results are the legitimate evidence of the genuineness of the principle. Any encouragement from the past exercise of the affections, irrespective of their present practical influence, must therefore be discountenanced. And even this influence satisfactorily ascertained must be controlled by the dictates of a spiritually enlightened judgment. We would call the judgment into constant exercise, under the influence of Christian motives. We would regulate “the Spirit of love,” under the controul of “the Spirit of a sound mind.” We would have “love” always to “abound in knowledge and in all judgment.” Only let it “abound yet more and more.” Let it not be chilled, damped, fettered. Let us guard against that frosty elevation of intellect, which seems to regard religion as an Alpine plant, the growth only of a cold climate. Let us not separate it from that exciting glow of love, in which we are quickened to a sense of our obligations, sustained under our daily trials, and are raised in our present privileges and prospective anticipations above the baneful influence of “the course” and spirit “of this world.”

Constitutional causes must however be well considered — while insisting upon the strong influence of religion upon the affections. Intellectual character” is not always embued with natural sensibilities; while on the other hand a sympathetic tone of character is easily excited. It is obvious that both these require larger measures of Divine influence — the one, that the man may enter into the delight of Christian feeling — the other, that natural tenderness may be braced up to firmness and stability: in both cases — that they may judge each other charitably. But “the love of God must be shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost” or we are not, we cannot be, Christians.

We would beg however shortly to advert to depreciation of scriptural privilege of a very different character. There are some who stand even upon lower ground than intellectual professors. They are satisfied with a small portion of spiritual enjoyment, and even that this modicum should be occasional, not constant. They have no conception of any internal religion answering to the wrestling vigilance, by which “the kingdom of heaven is taken by force.” The warmth of first impressions subsides as a matter of course; not however into a matured and solid effectiveness, but into luke-warmness and inertion. If they be the children of God in a Laodicean state, they will probably be roused by sharp afflictions, to a zealous and penitent profession of their Master’s name, and by this wise and loving dispensation, be quickened to hear the voice of their Lord, and introduced into the full enjoyment of communion with him. It is however evident, that every form of the indulgence of sloth, every allowance of unbelief, and the influence of obscure apprehension of the gospel, operate prejudicially to the interests of the church and of true religion. For thus religion is presented to the world in a false and unattractive garb. The standard of holiness is lowered in the defect of that enlivening sense of redeeming love, which conciliates, engages, and captivates the heart. Little is known of that support of the promises of God, which over-balances all difficulties, real and apparent, and adds more to the enjoyment of life, than suffering can take away. This evil will be generally traced, except in cases of moral delinquency or constitutional weakness, to the secret root of self-righteousness. The simplicity of faith in the contemplation of its great object is obscured by an undue and unevangelical dependence upon evidences. These, though they have their legitimate use as the confirmation of our hope, must have no connexion with its foundation. When the perception of clear evidence is deficient (as in times of temptation especially is often the case), faith, leaning upon his ever-changing support, becomes uncertain, unsettled, and unfruitful. Whereas under the darkest destitution of internal sources of comfort, the offer, invitation, encouragement, and promise of the gospel, addressed to sinners is an unfailing and sufficient warrant, such as nothing in ourselves can make more complete. Let then faith be distinctly and explicitly exercised. Let clear apprehensions of the ground of comfort be diligently sought. Let the testimony of the word, not the feelings of our heart, be the foundation of our hope. Let Christ be regarded as the only fountain of life, light and consolation. Thus will “Grace and peace be multiplied unto us through the knowledge of God, and of Jesus our Lord.”

We close this section with giving at some length, and with interesting variety of illustration, Miss Graham’s sentiments upon Conformity to the World; a subject of vital moment to the integrity, consistency, and fruitfulness of the Christian profession.

The first letter commences with a few remarks, not immediately relevant to the subject, but which will be read with interest.

n 2

Stoke, Feb. 21, 1827.

4 It seems to me that all the Lord’s dealings with his redeemed children speak this language — “Cease ye from man.” Put not your trust in any earthly comforter. Lean not on any arm but the arm of your Beloved. “For the hearts of the people” of this world “are full of idols.” Self is the great idol, that is loved and honoured more than God. Then comes a multitude of lesser things, all subservient to this one; and if some little corner in the heart is reserved for God, or if the shadow of a throne is set up, where he may sit on solemn occasions, at the pleasure of the great idol, then they think all is going on well; and God loved as much as he could reasonably expect to he loved by creatures who have such a press of business on their hands. But, my beloved friend, we may not do so. God has purchased us for his own inheritance, will have our whole heart and our whole dependence; and though we must rejoice in the friends he gives us, yet we must not think we cannot do without them; or that we should go on better, if we had more of their help. Christ is all-sufficient, and teaches, comforts, and reproves in his own time and way, and by his own means, without any need of our direction. In looking back to every event of my life, since I have known something of the grace of God, I find that there never has been any thing on which I very much depended, but God has straightway removed or embittered that thing, or in some way made it useless to me, till I returned to place my whole dependence on him. But let us not accuse our dearest Lord of acting unkindly towards us in sending these disappointments; for he only takes away other helps and props, to make room for himself. He loves us too well to suffer any rival in our affections.

* I have read your letter over and over, and scarcely know how to answer it, or what to make of it. O that you had some better counseller than I! for 1 know not how to advise you. I fear lest you should think me strict and gloomy, if I tell you all I think; but I will tell you, since you desire it; and I know that God is able and willing too to give you joys so much superior to every worldly amusement, that you will wonder you could ever think them worth a thought. I must say then, that the world and worldly amusements, appear to me quite inconsistent with the character of a real Christian; and that we never can enjoy happy converse with God till we give them up. The Christian is described in the Scriptures, as “the temple of the living God.” Now where the holy-God takes up his abode, surely that heart must be sanctified and set apart from every common use, wholly devoted to his service. But can God and the world reign in the same heart, or as it were reign by turns 1 Shall we admit the Lord of glory in the morning, and shut him out in the evening, while we are going to a ball or a play 1 for we may be well assured he will not go with us there. The spirit of the world, which reigns in such places, is quite opposite to his Spirit; and “the friendship of the world,” which is there sought, “is enmity with God.” I know this would be called uncharitable; but I do not wish to be more charitable than the Bible: and surely experience proves it to be true; for go into any fashionable assembly whatever, and there begin to speak of those things of which we ought to talk, “when we are sitting in the house, and when we walk by the way, and when we lie down, and when we rise up;” and see if politeness itself can suppress a smile at your strange and unwarrantable impertinence, in forcing the attention of the company to subjects, which they are met for the very purpose of forgetting. No, my dear friend, that cannot be a proper place for a Christian, where religion is the thing that, must not be named; and where even something in our hearts will tell us, that such subjects are oat of place. Neither can you say, your own heart may be as well employed there as elsewhere; for the very sweetest meditation on heavenly things (if we could thus meditate in the midst of vanity) would be spoiled by the thought, that there were none who enjoyed like communion with ourselves; and we should soon have to “seek with Joseph a place to weep in,” to weep over our companions and friends, who are thus “feeding on ashes,” delighting themselves in things which cannot profit. The fact is, when Christians are at a place of worldly amusement (if Christians are to be found who will venture themselves so unguardedly into Satan’s strong places), they must either have heavenly thoughts (and then the amusement would appear so vapid, disgusting, and uninteresting, that they would never be able to stay it out), or else, if the amusement is an amusement to them, it fills their hearts with a crowd of vain thoughts, shuts out Christ, and lets in self and the world, and so prepares room for doubts, and fears, and much bitter repentance, before the Spirit will again shine upon a heart which has so wantonly despised his grace.

But many will say — ‘All this may take place if we stay at home;’ our worldly hearts may let in many intruders there; and we may be compelled to own, that we should have been as well at any place of public resort, as in our own room, with no one to talk to but. our own heart. This, I confess, is our shame and misery, that we are so often entangled in vain and worldly thoughts. But surely it does but make the argument stronger against indulging in any thing which tends to foment such thoughts. If we are so weak, why go into temptation, against which the strongest have not been able to stand? We may fall into a worldly frame of mind in the absence of any worldly pleasures; but, because we have got a cruel enemy within, shall we go and expose ourselves to the attacks of the enemy without 1 Let us at least have the comfort of not having gone in quest of our misery. Temptations enough will come to us; let us not go to them. Besides, it seems to me but mocking our Father which is in heaven, to say one hour — “Lead us not into temptation” — when we have coolly made up our mind to rush into it the next. From the evil of such a temptation, can we hope that he will deliver us 1 Let me draw your attention to the sweet precept of our Lord — “Let your l«ins be girded about, and your lights burning; and ye yourselves like unto men that wait for their Lord, when he will return from the wedding; that when he cometh and knocketh, they may open to him immediately!”

Now, dear, I am sure you would not choose, that your

Lord should come for you, while engaged in worldly amusements; nor would you feel, that he found you watching; nor would you be ready to “open immediately ,•” but would rather ask time to collect your scattered thoughts, and trim your wasted lamp. If we were to ask the blessed in heaven, or the tormented in hell, what they think of such employments, would not the one smile with pity at the question, and the other exclaim with rage — ‘O that I had but one of those hours you are thus throwing away! You should see whether I would let the precious moments pass in such vanities as these!’ Forgive me, if I have said too much. Indeed I should tremble for you, going into such a difficult situation, if I did not know, that God can take as much care of you there, as in a more retired place.

* I do earnestly desire, that the blessing of a single eye and undivided heart may be yours. There is no comfort in being an undecided Christian; and Christ himself has declared that such a character is hateful to him. But this will not be the case with you: He who has helped you thus far, will go on leading you by the hand, till he has brought you to glory. You ask me — ‘How we are to wean our hearts from the world V I know no other answer, but that which the Scripture gives. A believing view of Jesus must make the world look dark and insignificant: and whenever we begin to love it too much, we have only to apply to him, who has said to us — “Be of good cheer; I have overcome the world;” and his mighty power shall be put forth to enable us to overcome it also. I used to make many resolutions against a worldly spirit, and try many ways to break myself of it; and these resolutions were repeatedly broken; but now I have but one way; I try to take my heart to Jesus, believing that the victory is already mine for his sake. ‘Lord, thou hast promised that “sin shall not have dominion over me.” Thou hast said, that every one that is “born of thee overcometh the world.” FuMl thy gracious promise, and make me “more than conqueror” in thy might! Thou hast “given thyself for my sins, that thou mightest deliver me from this present world;” and wilt thou now leave me to be taken captive by

this evil wTorld 1 O dear, the faithful God must become

like unto lying, promise-breaking man, before he can refuse to help his servants, who thus cast themselves on his word of promise; and disclaim all wisdom, strength, and goodness but his. The world and the things of the world, as “a strong man armed, who keepeth his goods in peace,” must continue to have possession of our hearts, till Christ, who is “stronger than” the world, break in, and claims the house of the strong man, as a mansion for his Spirit to dwell in. Cast yourself then without fear upon the free mercy of God in Christ Jesus. The more worldly and wicked you feel yourself to be, the more he is concerned to’ show his power and faithfulness in saving you from your worldliness and wickedness.’

The next letter upon the same subject was written shortly afterwards to another correspondent, whom she regarded with the most lively affection, as having been made instrumental in communicating to her soul the knowledge and love of her Saviour.

March 22, 1827. ‘You must, I think, have misunderstood my meaning about worldly company and amusements. Jet us but have a right motive for doing so, and I think we may safely go into any company whatever. The word of God affords us two valuable rules for all our actions, and if we could set them always before our eyes, I believe we should seldom be at a loss as to the conduct we ought to pursue. “Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God. And — whatsoever ye do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God and the Father by him.” Let us then always ask ourselves, before we set about any stud)7, or employment, or enter into any company — ‘Am I doing this “to the glory of God %n Is it my sole, or at least my principal motive? Can I “do it in the name of the Lord Jesus!” Can I boldly say — it is such an action as he would approve of? And can I look up to him all the time I am doing it, for his sanction and blessing!’ If you can answer this question satisfactorily, the action, whatever it be, must be right; and there can be no danger attending the performance of it. If, on the contrary, your mind recoils from even asking such a question, be assured there is something wrong in it, and that you would do well to give it up. It is a hard lesson to our carnal hearts, but one which the love of Jesus can make easy to us; that from the moment we take refuge at the cross of Jesus, and are “washed from our sins in his blood — from that happy moment we are “no longer our own,” and must make it our one business to “glorify God in our body and spirit, which are God’s.” This seems to me the great and marked distinction between the Christian and the worldling. The one lives to himself; the other “to him who died for him and rose again.” The one consults his own pleasure, ease, and safety, “leans to his own understanding,” and seeks his own glory. The other prays that his will may be quite swallowed up in the will of Jesus, “ceases from his own wisdom,” and makes “Christ his wisdom.” He no longer “receives the honour which cometh of man;” but desires that Christ, the Author of all his good things, may have all the glory of them. His fleshy nature, or — as St. Paul calls it, the old man — strives hard against this, and would lead him to please and honour himself again; and this is the great conflict between the flesh and the spirit, which makes the Christian life so truly called a warfare. This conflict has already begun in you, my dearest friend, and will never cease, till death takes you from sense and self, to where you shall see Jesus as he is, and wonder that you could ever prefer any thing- to him. No wonder you find it a hard and strange conflict. Parting- with self-seeking-, self-honouring’ and-self-righteousness, is far more painful, than cutting- off a right hand, or plucking out a right eye. “With man indeed this is impossible; but with” Jesus “all things are possible.” Taking this consideration with us then, that Christ — not self — is to be the end of all our actions, and that “whether we eat, or drink,” or speak, or go in or out, or are alone or in company, engaged in study or recreation, we must “do all to the glory of God,’’ and “in the name of the Lord Jesus” — I think it will give us a very different view of our duty as to worldly company and employments, from any that worldly wisdom or policy can give us.

It cannot be, however, for the glory of God, that we should show ourselves morose and unsociable. The friends and relations we have are his gifts, and therefore must not be despised or neglected. Besides, we ought to bear in mind, that the redeemed of Christ are “the salt of the earth,” “a peculiar people,” created anew in Christ Jesus for the very purpose of “showing forth his praises;” and how can we do this, if we shut ourselves out altogether from the world 1 It is false humility, which makes us say — ‘I can never do any good,’ — for the meaner the instrument, the more is the glory of God displayed in doing good with it; and as it is all God’s doing and not ours, we have no reason to be proud of it, but rather to be abased at the sight of our own unfitness. I own to you, that I consider it the greatest blessing to a worldly family to have but one Christian among them (though I know they think it a sad interruption;) for who can tell but God may hear the prayers and tears of that one, and make him or her the messenger of peace to the rest 1 Thus far then, I think it must be right to go into worldly company, in the discharge of relative duties not plainly inconsistent with the word of God; or to avail ourselves of any providential opportunities of Christian usefulness. Let us however be careful, that our own spiritual state is not affected by it; for we can never be required to enter into any thing to the hurt of our own souls. But on the other hand, my dear friend, I think, if we really love Christ, this occasional mixing with worldly company will be rather a sacrifice than a pleasure to us. For think, what it is to go amongst worldly people “in the name of the Lord Jesus,” and “to the glory of our God.” Even if we do not feel ourselves called on to speak to them directly on the subject; still, if we keep this aim in view, in how many little things must we show that our sentiments are opposite to theirs! and if they know that we profess religion, we may be almost sure, that they view us with secret dislike and contempt; for “the carnal heart is” and always will be “enmity against God” and his people. I have seldom been into worldly company, without feeling either very uncomfortable all the time I was in it, or very unhappy as soon as I came out of it; for if God enabled me to keep his glory in view, the sight of so many soul§ perishing in a vain confidence of their own safety; the sense of my inability to speak properly to them; the consciousness that in many cases at least they would gladly have dispensed with my company, all these things could not but make me uncomfortable — not unhappy; because, supposing that I was In the clear path of duty — in the midst of vain company and sad reflections, I could still hold communion with Jesus. But when I lost

sight of this great end, O dear, I wish I could point to

you the anguish I have endured, that you might avoid dishonouring your Saviour as I have done! Very, very often this has been my wretched case: — ‘What will people think of me, if I set up to be so much better than others V This ensnaring question has often made me put on a levity of sentiment and manner, which I did not at first feel, but which, persisted in, has become real; and I have been in heart as well as in appearance, the worldliest of the worldly. And when even I have returned home, God has often seen fit to visit this sin, by leaving me still to backslide in heart, and to be “filled with my own ways;” and when I have come to myself, (for he has never quite left me, nor ever will,) how can I describe the bitterness of thinking, that I had done dishonour to the cause of my only friend, lost the sweet sense of his redeeming love, missed many opportunities of saying a word which he might have blessed, and by my light and fool — ish conduct given occasion to the world to think, that religion was a thing in word only, not in power!

* I have told you my experience; but I believe it is more or less what every Christian feels; only few have been so very guilty in this respect as I have. Even now, though I know, that all these sins are washed away in my Redeemer’s blood, I cannot reflect without the deepest self-abhorrence on the vain and foolish conduct I often indulged in at, particularly the sin of evil speaking, which I gave way to there more than any where. I might add that of sabbath-breaking. Do not think that I mean to lay it to their charge; O no, I only mean, that by going into the society of worldly people, if I may so say, without my armour on, I became as vain as they; and much more sinful; because I sinned against light and grace. Surely then, if we consider these drawbacks, worldly people will not be our chosen companions; and we shall go among them when we do, as a duty rather than a pleasure.

‘With regard to the theatre, and amusements of this kind, Christians must have little to do, if they can find time for them. But if they could find time, I confess I am at a loss to see what business they can find there. Are not the sentiments usually uttered in such places quite in opposition to the precepts of God’s word Are not pride, vain glory, self-destruction, hatred, dissipation, unlawful attachments, held up to our admiration in many theatrical compositions, considered as trivial faults in most of them, and detested upon right principles in none 1 You profess as a Christian to make Jesus your happiness. What can you find here to bring you into communion with him 1 You profess to make his glory your aim. Can you then sit with complacency, and hear a company of your fellow-creatures, with immortal souls, uttering sentiments which only tend to make them despise Christ

and his ways 1 But I will leave the subject, dear, only

adding, that I do not wish you to give up this amusement from what 1 say, but from the settled conviction of your own mind, after prayer for Divine teaching. If then you find, that you can neither “do it to the glory of God, or in the name of Jesus,” I will not try to dissuade you from it. I was once induced to attend ‘Matthews at Home,’ and shall never forget the sensation I felt, when he told us how his father, who was a good kind of man, but too religious, had tried to keep him from coming on the stage. When I looked round, and saw the merriment expressed in every face, I could not help saying to myself, ‘This is no place for me; there are no lovers of Christ here; for “charity rejoiceth not in iniquity,” as these poor deluded people are doing.’

‘And now, my dearest friend, I have proposed many privations to you; and what have I to offer you in return 1 Nothing but the love of Jesus; nay, that is yours already; for if you are enabled to give these things up, it will be — not that he may love you, but because he has loved you. The

MEMOIR OF

blessed spirits above want nothing else to make them happy; and we soon hope to taste their happiness; hut if it cannot make us happy here, then heaven itself would not make us happy. O let us pray for this love. Let us cast pff the spirit of bondage, and not come to God as slaves who must serve him; but as his redeemed children, who love to serve him, and who find his “service perfect freedom.” Let us pray that more of “the love of God may be shed abroad in our hearts.” Let us beseech the Holy Ghost to “take of the things of Jesus, and show them to us.” Let us study all the sweet relations in which he has revealed himself to us in the Scriptures, Father, brother, friend, husband, lover. Here is perpetual and rational study for us; and the more we follow it, the sweeter we shall find it. It is but a little ray of this love that as yet has warmed my heart; yet 1 can tell you, dearest and most beloved friend, that it is worth renouncing ten thousand worlds for. The Lord Jesus has sometimes drawn near to me with such unspeakable sweetness, that I have thought all the lovely relations of life, father, husband, friend, had no beauty in them, except as they served to shadow forth the immense love of our reconciled God in Him, and the near and intimate communion to which he admits his chosen and redeemed people. O my friend, he has chosen you! What a wonder of love is here! He has redeemed you, at the price of his own precious blood, “from this evil world.” Will you linger in it any longer 1 God forbid! May the Spirit of God “fill you with such peace and joy in believing,” as may make the world and the things of it appear to you in their true light! Remember, this is not your home. We are “strangers and pilgrims” here. Let not the world see, that the joys of the love of Christ, and communion with him, are not enough to occupy us, without having recourse to the many vain and trifling ways they have invented of killing time, and driving eternity out of their thoughts. If we want strength, there is fulness of strength and grace treasured up for us in Jesus; and we have only to seek it by earnest prayer. I wish you would pray for more experience of his love to you. This would convince you more than all the arguments in the world of the vanity of every thing, which can tend to divert your mind from him. In seeking his love, may you be able to say with Jacob — “I will not let thee go, except thou bless me.” I shall look for your next very anxiously. Do not let the words ’ affected,” precise,” hypocrite,’ l enthusiast,’

«fool,’ ‘madman,’ and many other epithets, which perhaps you will hear lavished upon the followers of the Lamb, discourage you from making his cause and people your own. I cannot but remind you — that “all who will live godly in Christ Jesus, must suffer persecution.” Not perhaps open persecution now, but ridicule, dislike, sneering, either open or secret, must be your lot, if you determine to “be not conformed to this world.” We must not think it hard, or be angry or disheartened, if these things come upon us; for our Master was “a scorn and a derision to all around him.”

‘Do not cease to love me, and think of me always, dearest, as your most affectionately and entirely attached.

‘P. S. I earnestly join in your wish, that this may be the commencement of a new and blessed period of your life. May every future year see us walking more closely and more humbly with God.’

In a third letter to her cousin about a month subsequent, she again reverts to her Scriptural Rules.

April 20, 1827. * I feel exceedingly at a loss, my dear friend, how to answer your interesting question — “What is the meaning of giving up the world %” For I do not consider, that giving up the world consists in renouncing its amusements, its company, its pursuits, so much as in putting off its temper and spirit, that we may put on the spirit and temper that was in Christ Jesus. WThen the spirit of the world is thus exchanged for the spirit of Christ, the amusements and gaieties of the world, must (not perhaps all at once, but gradually and surely) come to be extremely vain and unsatisfying in our opinion. For though the word “communion with God” is considered as the mere creation of an enthusiastic imagination, yet if we will allow the Scriptures to be true, we must allow that there is such a thing as ‘* holding fellowship with the Father and the Son,” as “walking with God” day by day “in perfect peace,” as “having Christ living in us,” and “his Holy Spirit abiding in us;” for by this, and by this only can we know that we are in Christ, even by his Spirit which abideth in us. Now let us suppose a person enjoying — not the flights of a false and self-seeking devotion — but real, sober, scriptural converse with God, and that daily; must not this be a happiness superior to any the world can give ] See what David thought of it — “As the hart panteth after the water-brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God. My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God: Thou, O Lord God, art the thing that I long for. Whom have I in heaven but thee1? and there is none upon earth I desire besides thee. My soul breaketh for the longing that it hath unto thy judgments at all times. In God is my salvation and my glory; the rock of my strength, and my refuge is in God. My soul shall be satisfied as with marrow and fatness, and my mouth shall praise thee with joyful lips, when I remember thee,” &c. &c. And so in a thousand songs of love has David left on record what he thought of u communion with God.” What must have been Job’s view of the subject, when he said — “My friends scorn me, but mine eye poureth out tears unto God. O that I knew where I might find him! that I might come even to his seat! I would order my cause before him, and fill my mouth with arguments!” — Isaiah’s — when he said, “O Lord, the desire of our soul is unto thy name, and to the remembrance of thee! With my soul have I desired thee in the night; yea, with my spirit within me will I seek thee early!” But I need not multiply proofs of what seems to need no proof — that communion with his Creator is the best, and noblest, and happiest thing of which a creature is capable. Then will not they who enjoy this communion, very carefully avoid whatever may tend to rob them of it? They will soon find that converse with the world (unless as far as duty or necessity lead them to it) is not compatible with converse with God: for if they conform to this world’s habits and opinions, they deprive themselves of all scriptural claim to hope that God dwells in them, and they in him. But if, on the contrary, they are “transformed in the spirit of their minds,” they will soon find that the world will dislike or ridicule them. But until we are delivered from the spirit of the world, I cannot see how we can reasonably be expected to see any harm whatever in the customs of the world. Let the world that dwells and rules within be deposed, and the world without will soon lose its undue influence over us.

But, dearest, let us “stick to” the Scriptures as our rule

and standard in every thing, (thus our doubts upon every subject will be quickly satisfied); and let us study them with prayer, that he, “who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, would shine into our dark hearts, to give them the knowledge of the glory” of the gospel of God. We shall not ask in vain; for “God giveth wisdom liberally, and without upbraiding-.” May he give you that “wisdom which is from above;” since not all the wisdom of this world can find out God. There are in the sacred word two rules, which, if kept in view, might be a lamp to guide our feet in the darkest and most perplexing moments — “Whether ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God.’’’’ “Whatever ye do, in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus.” Now in going to a ball, or a play, merely to indulge my own vanity, or gratify my own inclination, I could not say — I am “doing this to the glory of God” — I could not set about it “in the name of the Lord Jesus;” therefore as a Christian, I think I have no right to do it at all. But if any one could go to the glory of God, I cannot dispute their right to going. In visiting my friends, and spending a little intercourse in social converse with them, I have no feeling of this kind to draw me back; for God has given us our friends, and therefore requires us to be active in every social duty; and religion has done little for us, if it has taught us to be more morose and unsociable; for the very soul of religion is to live not to ourselves, but to others. Still I think as far as we can, we should choose our friends rather among the friends of God, than among the friends and followers of the world. You mention music; — so far from thinking it wrong in all cases, I think, in my own, it is absolutely a religious duty to pursue music, as far as my health will permit; and I think the same with regard to you. But supposing we had no particular object in studying it, still I think that music, as affording a pleasing and innocent source of amusement to ourselves and others, cannot be considered wrong, though I should think it wrong to give more than a very moderate time to it, or to let it encroach upon any other duty. For a real Christian — to say the least of it — has so great a work in hand; so many really important and interesting objects daily solicit his attention, excite his energies, and set every faculty of soul and body to work; that he or she can have very little time to throw away upon mere amusements. I have given you my opinion as well as I can, because you asked me, not because lavish or expect you to be guided by it; for I am persuaded, that if you continue searching the Bible with earnest prayer, God himself will lead you into every good and pleasant way. I have known many religious people, who have not seen the necessity of separating themselves entirely from the world at first; but I never knew any o 2 one who did not see it at last. Let me then close this subject, dearest, by calling- to your remembrance that encouraging invitation in Corinthians: “Wherefore come out from among them, and be ye separate, saith the Lord, and touch not the unclean thing; and I will receive you, and will ‘be a Father unto you, and ye shall be my sons and daughters, saith the Lord Almighty.”

These letters will, we think, be admitted to discuss this important subject with much Christian wisdom and spirituality. Here are no harsh sweeping denunciations, but a plain reference to the rules of Christ; to the general principles, taste, and spirit of the gospel; and to the test of conscience and experience. Two particulars are worthy of special remark — her principle, and her rules.

Her principle is the superior attractiveness of the gospel, as the only effectual opposition to a worldly spirit — * A believing view of Christ’ — as she justly observed — ’ must make the world look dark and insignificant.’ The merchantman would never have suffered his “goodly pearls” to be snatched from him; but the first sight of “the pearl of great price” was sufficient inducement to him gladly to relinquish them. The apostle would never have yielded up his good name in the church with all his other sources of gain to the persuasive power of argument. But “the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus his Lord” once manifested to his soul, made what before was his all, now “loss” — yea — “dung” in his sight. Thus in every case, simple faith is the principle of Christian decision.

It is often a ground of self-delusive complaint — ‘If we were less entangled with the world, we should reach to far higher attainments in the excellency of this heavenly knowledge.’ This is doubtless a truth. Yet the converse is perhaps the most accurate and important statement. It is because we know so little of Christ, that we are so much entangled with the world. Here we have the radical principle of the evil laid open. General and superficial views of our glorious Saviour offer but a feeble resistance to the mighty, subtle, and incessant operation of a worldly, spirit. Deep, self-abasing, and spiritual apprehensions of the gospel must be perseveringly sought for, and maintained in constant exercise under Divine teaching and grace. To the heart thus attracted to Christ by the active contemplation of faith — the world in its most alluring forms, will ever be a crucified object, an object of shame and revulsion. And if this heavenly contemplation be followed out in all his relations to us of infinite tenderness and love, how will it cover us with shame, that a moment should ever have been found for any other object of paramount desire, affection, and interest! We must however carry this powerful principle of faith into all the particulars of practical application. We must not forget the supreme authority of the Scriptural commands for non-conformity to the world; nor must we refrain from rebuking whatever appears to us in detail, to be inconsistent with these commands. But except our remonstrances are grounded upon thfull and clear principles of the gospel, we shall — instead of “laying the axe to the root of the tree” — only prune the branches for more luxuriant fruitfulness. The worldly taste may he restrained — but not subjugated; and the heart, if it be even partially drawn from the world, will be turned to self-righteousness, not to Christ.

As to Miss Graham’s rules, it is a vain attempt to fix precise limits to every particular act. Yet the Scriptural rules which she has adduced, may be brought to bear upon every difficulty; and if the application of them will not make us infallibly right, it will at least preserve us from being materially wrong. The force of relative obligation as an ordinance of God is in clear conformity with these rules, and as such is strongly inculcated by Miss Graham; while at the same time it is never made an excuse for overstepping the line of demarcation, and always placed in connection with faithfulness and decision of conduct. The point of worldly conformity commences, and the habit of it is strengthened, in the neglect of Christian simplicity of profession. Either these rules are not spiritually apprehended, or they are not conscientiously regarded, or there is a want of intelligent capacity to apply them. Many young inquirers of unformed habits and unexercised profession have lost their slight impressions of religion in an unguarded association with the world. And how many more established professors have by unspiritual habits become unconsciously conformed to the taste, maxims, or society of the world, even while they have “escaped its” external “pollutions.” We would earnestly recommend the application of these rules to every step and point of contact with the world. Let them be the test for the daily “trial of our spirit.” Let us cultivate that tender susceptibility of conscience, which impressed this devoted child of God with poignant sorrow and humiliation in a single instance of overstepping the boundary, or neglecting the rule, of her Christian profession. We are persuaded that this habit of mind diligently cherished, would issue in the conviction, that the points of necessary or hopeful intercourse with the world, are not so frequent as were imagined; that the rational pleasure of its society ill compensates for the painful loss that is felt in the secret retirement; that positive evil belongs to unnecessary communication with it; and that increasing circumspection is needed even in the path of duty. The responsibility of maintaining our profession will be more deeply felt; and a path of retreat sought for, where that profession seems to be impracticable. We shall walk not by expediency, but by rule. Self-indulgence will yield to the dictates of conscience, and double-mindedness to the simplicity of the gospel. “The eye being thus single, the whole body will be full of light.” Religion will assume a different caste. It will be marked by a holy and heavenly stamp. It will be — not a system of restraints — but a religion of privilege — the strictness of its rules wholly divested of moroseness, and forming an effectual safeguard of its consistency and fruitfulness. Thus God will be seen in his true character, as “having pleasure in the prosperity of his servant,” who needs not to be beholden to the world for that happiness, which it promises to its votaries in substance, but gives only in shadow and delusion.

The length and seriousness of this important discussion may be happily relieved by a sprightly effort of Miss Graham’s imagination, bearing immediately upon our subject. It was written impromptu in her friend’s manuscript book. The picture was probably suggested by her residence on the sea-side.

February, 1830.

“Thy people shall be my people.” — Ruth i. 16. ‘I have sometimes thought, that the Christian, who willingly casts his lot amongst those to whom the doctrine of the cross is foolishness, and sits down in the world as if he were of the world, is like the foolish little bird that should build its nest in the mast of some tall ship. At first it seems a place of security and peace; but soon the vessel looses from its anchor, and the little songster is borne away it knows not whither. The trees and flowery hedges, and bright sunny meadows, are fast going out of sight. Fain would the poor bird spread its wings and regain them: but how can it leave its nestlings, its treasures, which it has confided to that strange and troubled dwelling! No, no; its all is launched into the deep; and with anxious, constant care it must hover round the dear nest, and seek for strange and scanty food for its young. And at first the vessel may., glide smootly on, while the wind gently plays with its sails, and the sun lights them up to a snowy whiteness, and the gilded waves break in sparkles round the stately prow. Then the little visitant pours forth its sweet song, and gladdens the sailor’s heart by the fond tale it tells him of happiness and home. Yet all the while it is only lamenting its desolation, and pining after the pleasant haunts in the green wood, and the dear companions, by whom its notes were answered from bush to bush, till the very boughs waved in joy to their merry strains. But O! poor bird, if a storm arise, how wilt thou flutter round thy nestlings, and tremble lest they should be swept away by the pitiless waves, or chilled into death by the piercing winds! Yes, little trembler, thou hast placed thyself and thine offspring in a perilous situation; nor is it thou that canst save them, but thy Father and ours, without whom not so much as a sparrow falleth to the ground. He it was that took care of thee, when thou wast safely lodged in thine own leafy branches; and he can take care of thee now, can teach the rude sailor to respect thy helplessness, and hush the stormy winds, that they ruffle not a feather of thy wing. And thus, Christian, if thou hast wilfully withdrawn thyself from the shadow of that tree, which spreads forth its branches for all the fowls of heaven to dwell in; if thou hast made thee a home away from the Lord’s people; many a bitter hour of loneliness and desolation shalt thou have, while thou art “singing the Lord’s song, in a strange land. Thou shalt rue thy folly, and be humbled for it. Yet be not utterly cast down, but still trust in thy God, who will not fail to rebuke and chasten, but will never leave thee nor forsake thee.’

IV. Her sentiments upon miscellaneous subjects.

We now conclude this long series of quotation, with some extracts of a more miscellaneous character.

It is delightful to observe all her views of science, extensive and accurate as they were, to have been received and enjoyed through a heavenly medium. Whichever way she looked in this wide expanse, her eye was transfixed in the contemplation of the unsearchable mysteries of redeeming love. We may instance the following sketch of Christian Astronomy — extracted from her manuscript. Speaking of the withering influence of Mathematics upon the pleasures of the imagination, and having (as we have already seen) suggested the study of classical literature, as furnishing some antidote for this evil, she further adds on this point:

‘It is scarcely possible to pursue mathematics to any extent, without being led by them into some of those sciences, of which they form the vestibule. Astronomy, for instance, presents a field for the largest and noblest exercises of the imagination. The stars, ’ the poetry of heaven,’ afford not only perpetual employment for the reason, but unbounded scope to the fancy. The objects of astronomical study display a sublimity, which exalts the imagination; a mystery which humbles the intellect, a wisdom which enlarges every faculty of the soul, and a loveliness which soothes every feeling of the heart. They have, like their Divine Author, “heights, depths, and breadths” — unfathomable — inscrutable. Here we may soar, as upon the wings of angelic intelligence. Here we may expatiate, till our minds are lost in infinity. But with what unutterable astonishment does the Christian astronomer gaze upon the innumerable host! He is conscious that God is all around him. His mind is possessed by one idea — the presence, the immense, the all-pervading presence of the God who made and upholds all these. For an instant he forgets his own littleness, and becomes vast as the objects of his contemplation; for there are moments when the human soul seems to expand into something of its original grandeur. But the humbling consciousness returns, as soon as his full heart will give him leave to think, and he shrinks into insignificance. It is nothing to be the least, the meanest of the creatures of God. But to be a fallen-creature — this bows him to the dust. Sin has made him an outcast from the beautiful creation, an alien from the creating God. An holy God is on every side; and he is not holy.

1 But yet his thrilling awe is cheered with joy, hope, and love. “The day-star arises in his heart;” and now every other star has a voice, “a still small voice;” and tells a tale of love, which the angels delight to hear: a mystery, “which the angels desire to look into.”

‘He who made us is “the God of thy salvation.” He is “thy Beloved and thy Friend.” Thus hath the God who made the heavens, who ordained the moon and the stars, been mindful of man, visited him in his low estate, and “crowned him with glory and honour.” ’

“Praise him, ye heavens of heavens. Praise him, all ye stars of light.” Christians! you can “sing- praises with understanding.” All ye that love the Lord, praise the name of the Lord. “Praise the Lord, O my soul.”

While this sublime science has been perverted (as in the French school of philosophy) for man’s contemptuous rejection of his Maker, it is most refreshing to observe the magnificent illustrations by which “the heavens,” viewed through the medium of Christian philosophy, “declare the glory of God.” In this field of elevated contemplation the eye of faith “leads us up from nature,” not only “to nature’s God,” but to the Christian’s God — the God of his salvation. Here we discover what the “eye” of reason “has not seen, nor hath ear heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of man,” untaught by God. If, as our poet of the Night has decided, 4 an undevout astronomer is mad,’ even the devout man of science is not in the full possession of his faculties, nor in the enjoyment of the clear perception of the objects of his delight*- ed observation, except he has been instructed in the higher school of Divine science, and enabled to trace in the Maker of the starry frame his God and Saviour — his faithful, unchangeable, Almighty friend.

We pass to another field of science of more general interest. Miss Graham’s Musical Tract, already referred to, will, it is believed, be found to give an accurate sketch of the principles of its own department of the science. Its style is buoyant with life, beauty, and power. It occasionally mounts almost to the magnificent prose of John Milton or Jeremy Taylor. Take the following as a specimen:

Speaking to her young pupil of the importance of practising, she sends her to the woods and groves for a stimulating example of industry.

‘I can tell you that the little musicians of the grove do not attain their wild and delicate modulations without practice. When 1 lay in bed last summer, unable to speak or move for many hours in the day, the song of the birds furnished me with an inexhaustible source of amusing observation. I could not but feel grateful to the melodious little creatures, who beguiled me of half my pain, and made the weary hours of sickness fly away upon wings as light as their own. As if led by an instinctive sympathy, numbers of blackbirds and thrushes came to build their nests round our garden; and the wood pigeons, which had been silent the year before, renewed their soft notes in the high trees by the parsonage lawn. However, they were shy, and I thought myself fortunate, if once or twice in the day their gentle cooing found its way to my ear. But there was one thrush, whose notes I soon learned to distinguish from all the other thrushes; indeed his skill seemed to exceed theirs as much as Cordoba’s* exceeds yours or mine. Every mornings I listened for his voice, which was sure to precede the matins of all the other birds. In the day time, his brilliant tones were mingled and almost lost in the general melody; but as soon as the sun was preparing to set, when the blackbirds had either sung themselves to sleep, or were flown off to keep up their festivities elsewhere, then was my thrush’s practising time. He was kind enough to select a tree not far from my window, while the other thrushes placed themselves at a respectful distance, and edged in a note here and there as they could. He opened the rehearsal with a number of wild trills and calls, which I could not well understand; only they were very sweet and cheering to me; and he would pause between each, till a soft response was heard from some distant bough. But when he had fixed upon a little cadence which pleased him, it became a more serious business. Strange to say, I could always tell when this would be; for what pleased me particularly was sure to please him; so true is it that nature has given the same perception of melody to man and to birds. He would chant it over in a low tone two or three times, as if to make himself sure of it; then he carolled it out with triumphant glee; then stopped short on a sudden, as much as to say to his rivals — ‘Which of you can imitate my strains ?! Their notes sounded most sweet at various distances during these little intervals; but they seemed conscious of their inferiority to my favourite, who would suddenly break out into the very same melody, upon which he had doubtless been musing all the while, enriching it by some little note or trill, the wildest and most touching that ever came into a thrush’s heart. I needed neither concert nor music-master, while I could listen to the untaught,

* An eminent musical professor among the Spanish refugees, to whom she expresses herself indebted for much valuable instruction.

but not unpremeditated, harmony of this original professor; nor could I quarrel with the sickness which had been the means of developing another link in that mysterious chain, which binds me to the rest of creation, by opening my ear and my heart more than ever to the language of universal nature. But I often wished to have you with me, that you might hear how much pains the birds are at to charm us with their warbling. It is pretty also to hear the young birds commence their small and faultering strains, which grow clearer and louder, till they are no longer to be distinguished from the rest. True, it is their profession, and we have many other things to think of; but what time we do give to the study of music, we should give it with our hearts, as they do.’

For effective playing she gives the following sensible rules, interspersing them with her own happy illustrations:

‘I have told you that to play a piece effectively you must comprehend it well. You must also feel it deeply. It is impossible to excite lively emotions in another’s breast, while your own remains untouched. There are two rules, which may assist you to attain quick perceptions of what is correct and beautiful; and (with the help of the mechanical rules I have given you) to bring those perceptions out in your own performance. The first is, to cultivate a constant habit of listening to natural sou?ids. Every thing in nature has a melody which goes to the heart, and from which we may gain some new and delightful ideas. I have called your attention to the song of birds. Then there is the bleating of flocks, and the lowing of distant herds, and the busy hum *bf insects. Above all, the modulations of the human voice afford us a perpetual source of observation. From thence we may gather the expression of every stormy passion which agitates, and every tender affection which soothes the heart. Nor can we listen to the fairy tones of children, their light-hearted carols, their bursts of tiny merriment, their mimic griefs, and simply told stories, without imbibing some new and charming combinations of harmonious expression. If music brings no lovely thoughts and associations to your mind, you are learning it to very little purpose. If it does, an intimate acquaintance with the music of nature will invest the expression of those thoughts with a grace and refinement, which the most persevering practice will fail to impart. Take lessons of the winds and of the waters, and of the trees; of all P animate and inanimate nature. So shall the very spirit of sweet sound and expression enter into your bosom, and lie there, ready to pour itself forth upon the otherwise low and mechanical music, which the pressure of your hands produces on the instrument. One of Handel’s finest pieces is said to have been suggested by the labour of a blacksmith at his anvil; so successfully did he watch for the harmony that lies wrapped up in the commonest sounds.

* The next rule I shall give you, is to listen attentively to skilful performers; noticing particularly what emotions are excited in your mind by every passage; and by what means they contrive to produce the effect which pleases you. The gratification we derive from listening to music, is similar to that which poetry imparts to us. Both these delightful arts call into being a thousand beautiful imaginations, tender feelings, and passionate impulses. But in reading poetry, we are delighted with the thoughts of another person; and though a beautiful idea will give us new pleasure every time we recur to it, still this pleasure is little varied, and depends on the conformation of the poet’s mind, rather than of our own. The delights of music are of our own creation. We become for the time poets ourselves, and enjoy the .high privilege of inventing, combining, and diversifying, at pleasure, the images which harmonious sounds raise in our minds. The selfsame melody may be repeated a hundred times, and inspire each time a train of thought different from the last. Sometimes it will call forth all the hidden stores of memory — absent friends, voices long silent in the tomb, lovely scenes, pleasant walks, arid happy hours, come back to us in all their freshness and reality. Then the future opens its dreary prospect, gilded by hope, and chastened by a mournful tenderness. The exile is restored in glad anticipation to his country; the prodigal sobs out his penitence on his father’s bosom; the child of affliction is safely lodged in that mansion where sorrow and crying are unknown. Sometimes the past is forgotten, the future unheeded, the mind wrapped up in the present consciousness of sublimity or beauty. Forms of delicate loveliness, things such as dreams are made of, float before the mental vision, shaped into something of a walking distinctness. Thoughts too noble to last, high and holy resolves, gushings of tenderness, alternately possess our minds, with emotions all equally different, and equally delightful. The poetical inspiration of Alfieri seldom came upon him, but when he was under the influence of music. Haydn’s symphonies were all composed so as to shadow forth some simple and affecting story, by which the author excited and varied his own feelings, and wrought them up to that pitch of solemn pathos, or animated gaiety, which to this day inspires all who hear his music with corresponding emotions.’

The Christian tone and descriptive beauty of the concluding paragraphs will be generally admired. They are in the style of her favourite writer, Jeremy Taylor.

‘The expression of sacred music comprehends every emotion that can agitate the human heart, and must be felt rather than described. The subdued tones of awful adoration; the impassioned fervour of desire; the humility of prayer; the wailing of penitential sorrow; the glad notes of thanksgiving; and the loud chorus of praise; all these have their own peculiar utterance, and must be pervaded by a depth and solemnity which shall distinguish them from the meaner affections of humanity.

‘I am fearful of touching too lightly upon this hallowed subject. Many young persons, when their feelings are excited by sacred music, imagine themselves to be bettered by such feelings, and to be under the influence of genuine religious sentiments. But if the plain majesty of the word of God does not suffice to kindle an equal fervour within us, when we are reading it silently and alone, we may be sure that the emotions excited by the lovely songs and pleasant instruments of men are the mere ebullitions of natural feeling, and have nothing to do with religion. Those who would sing the praises of the Lord, must “sing them with understanding.” The undying torch of truh must be lighted up in that faculty, before it can set the heart in a flame. There exists not a more dangerous delusion, than to mistake the feverish excitement of the imagination for the cheerful and steady glow of a rational devotion.

4 But while I so anxiously guard you against this pernicious error, do not for a moment suppose, that I would shut you out from the privilege which all creation enjoys, of sounding its Maker’s praise. Oh! there is a harmony in nature, inconceivably attuned to one glad purpose! Everything in the universe has a voice, with which it joins in the tribute of thanksgiving. The whispers of the wind playing with the summer foliage, and its fitful moanings through the autumnal

MEMOIR OF

branches; the broken murmur of the stream, the louder gushing of the waterfall, and the wild roar of the cataract, all speak the praises of God to our hearts. Who can sit by the sea-side, when every wave lies hushed in adoration, or falls upon the shore in subdued and awful cadence, without drinking in unutterable thoughts of the majesty of God 1 The loud hosannas of Ocean in the storm, and the praises of God on the whirlwind, awaken us to the same lesson; and every peal of the thunder is an hallelujah to the Lord of Hosts. Oh! there is a harmony in nature! The voice of every creature tells us of the goodness of God. It comes to us in the song of the birds; the deep, delicious, tones in which the wooddove breathes out its happiness; the gracefully melting descant of the nightingale; the joyous, thrilling melody of the lark; the throstle’s wild warbling, and the blackbird’s tender whistle; the soft piping of the bulflnch; the gay carol of the wren; the sprightly call of the goldfinch; and the gentle twittering of the swallow. Even now, when every other bird is silent, little robin is pouring out his sweetest of all sweet notes upon yonder rose-bush; and so distinctly does he thank God, who made the berries to grow for him upon the hawthorn and mountain-ash, and who has put it into the heart of man to love him, and strew crumbs for him when the berries fail, that my soul, too often insensible to its own mercies, is warmed into gratitude for his. The very insect tribe have entered into a covenant, that God shall at no season of the year be without a witness amongst them to his praise. For when the hum of the bees and the chirping of the grasshopper have ceased to enliven us, and the gnat has laid by his horn, then the little cricket wakens into life and song, and gladdens our hearth with the same story till the winter is past. And so all nature praises God, and is never weary. If then you are able “to make melody in your heart to the Lord,” let your hand and your voice make melody too; and let the faculty which infinite benevolence has oreated for your enjoyment, be converted, as all your other faculties should be, into the instrument of praise. To know that you make this worthiest use of your musical acquirements will indeed rejoice the heart of your affectionate Friend and Cousin,

Mary.

The following exercise throws out some additional thoughts upon the connexion of poetry and music alluded to in her tract. It was written in the form of a letter to her cousin, for the Italian master then in attendance upon them. As she wrote Italian with considerable spirit, and took some pains with the composition, it may have slightly suffered in a translation.

1824. * My dear Friend — Yesterday I was told of an observation you had made in the conversazione of Mr. B., (where unfortunately I could not meet you,) and as I do not agree with you upon the interesting subject then discussed, I will make it the subject of this letter, begging you to excuse all the dulness, which you will certainly find in my composition. Is it possible, that you have conceived so low an opinion of the pleasures derived from harmony, that they do not appear to you worthy of being compared with those of poetry 1 I cannot let you rest in this opinion. Allow me to impart to my friend some of the delight which I find in this enchanting art! Not that I wish to say a word against poetry — that purest and most sublime delight of the human mind. Too dear to me are its sweet illusions, in which the usual sense of the ills of the present life is lost, whilst the soul lives in a world properly her own, and sports with beings created and adorned by herself. My intention is only to show you that the pleasures derived from music are not inferior to those of poetry, that both proceed from the same source, and mutually assist and heighten each other. You will perhaps remind me of the great antiquity of poetry, and that from the most remote ages it has been the solace of the wounded heart. But this 1 cannot yield to you. Indeed it appears to me, that music had an earlier birth, and was the mother of poetry. A shepherd one day discovered the flute, which nature has formed in the waving reed. Applying it to his lips, he is struck with the beautiful sounds which issue from it, and he endeavours to imitate them with his voice, in simple songs celebrating the beauties of his shepherdess. By degrees the cadences of the harmony suggest to him the idea of rhyme and metre, and thus these two beautiful arts are formed together, with so perfect a sympathy between them, that the one cannot be outraged without the other also suffering. Let us however leave this discussion upon the origin of these arts, (for it would be tiresome for us to search into the records of past ages,) and turn our attention to what is more interesting, the effects which in every age they have produced on the heart. p 2

I wish to search a little into your motives for giving- to poetry so vast a superiority; and the secret spring appears to me to be this: — The charms of harmony cause a pleasure perceptible to the senses, and for its enjoyment require a certain physical conformation, a fine and exact ear, and other things, which seem to have a connection with the material part of man. You have therefore persuaded yourself, that it is a thing delightful indeed to the senses, but which has little influence upon the mind and upon the heart. I flatter myself that I shall be able to convince you of the injustice of this idea. Not only does music give us many ideas, but they are of the same description with those inspired by poetry, and sometimes even more delightful to the soul. I allow that the sweet harmony enters by the ear. But thence it diffuses itself through every part of the mind. It moves every passion, softens every affection, and creates a thousand delightful imaginations, a thousand divine projects, which excite to all that is noble in resolve, and worthy in art. If I might draw a distinction between music and poetry, I should say, that the former brings us pleasure of a higher degree; the latter of a longer duration. Equally do they inspire soft affections and noble ideas.’ Then, after following the same train of thought and imagination as in her Musical Tract, she adds in her fervent glow — ‘And shall not a science, capable of producing these sentiments, be reckoned among the noblest delights of the human mind 1 I have not time to continue this interesting subject. But I cannot conclude without observing, that the poets themselves owe their finest ideas to music. Do you recollect the power which it had over the mind of our favourite Alfieri 1 He could scarcely compose without its help. Many of his noble tragedies were conceived at the Opera. But do thou, divine Petrarch, come to my help, and show her who admires thee so much, that without the music of nature, the song of birds, the murmur of the stream, thou wouldest not have been able to enchant her with thy delicious rhymes. With these beautiful verses I conclude my letter, already too long, entreating you to yield to his representation of the effect of fine sounds upon the mind.

* Se lamentar angclli, o verdi fronde,’ &c.

4 You know the rest. I have only time to say, that I am always

Your very affectionate

Mary/

Without pronouncing- upon the contending claims, (which probably may still be a matter of dispute,) the exercise is not unworthy of the intellectual character of the writer, and is specially interesting, as a burst of that ’ vehemence approaching to ecstacy,’ which, as Mr. Cecil keenly observed — ’ the world will allow on almost every subject, but that which, above all others, will justify it.’ If, however, Miss Graham seems here to contend for the precedence of music, she was no less warm a votary of poetry. Though she was no poet herself, and never till the close of her last illness did she exercise even a rhyming propensity, yet her perception of the true genius of the science was lively and accurate, and her enjoyment of its delights proportionate. We have already seen her high zest for Milton. Wordsworth was among her chief modern favourites; and even Lord Byron detained her for awhile the victim of his fascinating enchantment. We subjoin a letter of a very early date, descriptive of her feelings, with much discrimination of taste, and with all the glow of her characteristic enthusiasm.

July 15, 1822. 1 1 have not seen the Fourth Canto of Childe Harold. I am ashamed to say that I like Manfred. Diabolical as the sentiments of it are in many parts, yet there are some passages of such exquisite beauty and sublimity, that it seems as if a human pen could scarcely have traced them. All the time 1 was reading it, I felt I was doing something wrong, yet I read some of it over and over again, particularly the part where Manfred is upon the point of dashing himself over the precipice. The description of darkness did not please me. I thought it rather horrible than sublime. But I am just now in love with another poet, who is as fond of clothing his

frictures with the sunny radiance of happiness and benevoence, as Lord Byron is of spreading over his darkness and desolation. If you have read any of his trifling poems, you will smile when I mention Wordsworth. But some of his poems are so beautiful! We have just now been reading the Excursion. It is tiresome in many parts. But every now and then you meet with something so strikingly fine, or so unutterably tender, that it is impossible to go on. You must lay down the book till the ferment it occasions has subsided.’ Should Miss Graham’s delight in Lord Byron’s writings be a matter of surprise, it may be observed, that her letter distinctly records the rebuke of conscience in her moments of self-indulgence; and we doubt not but her inattention to this rebuke subjected her to the secret frown of her jealous God. We may also add that, shortly after the date of this letter, she readily made the sacrifice of her taste (which to her fervid mind required no ordinary effort) in the total relinquishment of this source of deleterious pleasure. Whatever weight may attach to her judgment will therefore decidedly be found on the side of self-denial, not of self-gratification. Indeed familiarity with works of poison, whatever be their literary charms, seems inconsistent, not only with Christian simplicity — but with a common regard to our personal welfare. To a pure mind we might have supposed that a rich and splendid fancy would be spoiled of all its attraction by its frequent connexion with licentious profaneness and impiety — moral deformities sufficient to cast the most exquisite beauties of power and genius into the shade; and the contemplation of which must be injurious to the best sensibilities of our nature. E ven the instruction resulting from the unveiled features of human depravity is obtained — if at all — at considerable hazard. For let it be remembered — as Miss Graham has shown — that the direct influence of poetry plays upon the passions, and thus tends to produce a corresponding habit of the mind. The evil propensities therefore pourtrayed by this master-mind with such awful exactness, and embracing every form of malignity than can darken the heart of man, naturally excite the working of those passions, which it is the grand design of the gospel of Jesus Christ to restrain and mortify. Whether therefore the infidel poison acts with vindictive activity, or with searching subtlety, its pervading influence is equally to be dreaded. We believe that many Christians, especially in moments of temptation, are reaping the bitter fruit of former indulgence; and we are persuaded that none will ultimately have reason to regret the sacrifice of the high pleasures of taste to the far higher claims of their own spiritual interests.

We add one further quotation from Miss Graham’s manuscript upon a subject not wholly unconnected with the preceding — works of imagination in a more legitimate, though still a questionable, form — Religious Novels. Observing, that * the taste of the serious public is lamentably vitiated’ — she adds,

4 The press teems with religious novels, from the long eventful story to the ephemeral trifles which eke out the pages of the spruce magazine. The greater part of these are feeble to a degree that would render them harmless, were there not a large proportion of readers, whose sickly appetite hankers after such unwholesome food. A few of them, I own, stand out from the rest, and compel our admiration. Yet I must be permitted to say, that the very interest excited by these superior productions increases their bad tendency. How strange a medley of sensations agitates the heart, that is fluttering between the emotions excited by the well-pictured charms of religion, and the love-scene that is better pictured still! How shall the young and inexperienced distinguish between earthly and heavenly feelings! How shall they determine whether their agitation arises out of romance or religion; a heated imagination, or a heart warmed with divine love 1

1 1 cannot conceive the use or propriety of introducing this kind of sentimental narrative into works professedly of a religious nature. Truth is not adorned but disguised, by being thus tricked out in false glitter and tinsel ornament. There are but two classes of readers; the converted, and the unconverted. Those of the former description would derive more benefit and pleasure too from praying over one verse of the Bible, than from reading a whole library of the above-mentioned performances. They will neither assist him to understand the word of truth himself, nor to explain it to others. It may be truly affirmed of the decided Christian, that for his own sake, the less he reads besides the Bible, the better. But for the sake of his fellow-men, his reading must be more extensive. He must seek to enlarge and confirm his general knowledge; must be prepared to meet inquiry, to cope with prejudice and error; to recommend the cause of religion; to “become,” with the Apostle, “all things to all men.” It is not, however, by giving his time to the works in question, that he will attain this desirable object. His mental character will only be deteriorated by their enervating influence. They will tend to impair both the inclination and capacity for solid intellectual exertion. It has been urged in their defence, that they will open to him a more extended view of human nature. But this will be much more effectually obtained by comparing the Scripture statement with his own daily experience and observation. Another argument in their favour is, that they afford an useful key to the character and manners of society. These, however, for the most part, are sketched with no very skilful hand. They might with greater accuracy and less expense of time, be collected from some of the master-pieces of authors not professedly religious. In short, considering that the Christian part of the community has so much to do, and so short a space to do it in, it must ever be matter of regret, that so large a proportion of their time and talent should be expended in making idlers and castle-builders.

But we turn our regard to the careless and gay. We are called upon to observe the effect of these publications upon their minds. We are reminded, that many young persons of lively imagination and warm feelings, who would scarcely look into a serious book, may be tempted to peruse these lighter works, and derive benefit from the perusal. I admit the first part of this proposition, but deny the conclusion that is drawn from it, except in a few, a very few instances, which are to be regarded rather as exceptions than as a general rule. Rare, however, as these instances are, they are by no means to be despised. They indicate that every narrative of this description must not be included in one sweeping condemnation, nor pronounced entirely useless, since the sovereign grace of God will occasionally use even them for its purpose. But they do not prove the necessity of sending forth such immense shoals of these productions, that one would think they were designed to supersede and swallow up every other. A few would answer the purpose just as well. Even while I concede thus much, I am inclined to ask — ‘Do you not in a measure create the taste, to which you profess only to accommodate yourselves? Will not this indisposition to all solid and valuable reading be exceedingly encouraged by your indulgent connivance V I much doubt both the lawfulness and expediency of this mode of decoying people into religion. I fear that the quantity of good which flows from it is greatly overbalanced by the quantity of evil.

The religion inspired by such reading is of a doubtful nature. There is more of earth in it than of heaven. A young person, whose tears flow over a professed novel, is in no danger of mistaking the excitement of feeling for the fervour of devotion. Not so with these ambiguous compositions. Romance and Religion are so allied, that we may suppose the latter to be embraced, when in effect her presence is only tolerated for the sake of her fascinating- companion. Dressed in the sober garb of truth, she will too probably be rejected by those who permitted her to court them under the bewitching veil of fiction. And is it for the sake of exciting this spurious devotion, that we run the hazard of destroying the correct and simple feeling of the rising generation, and encourage the prevalence of a style of writing which can never rise into genuine sublimity, nor fix itself upon a basis of native solidity and strength V

This extract will be generally admitted to mark considerable power of writing and of thought. The subject demands much accuracy of discrimination to place it in its true light. To proscribe works of imagination in the mass would include a much wider sweep of condemnation than novels religious or irreligious. It would banish from our reading much that is not merely purely innocent, but intrinsically valuable; and seal up the fountain of much elegant and instructive literature. We might indeed adduce Dr. Chalmer’s writings for the proof, that the corruption is in the application — not in the faculty — of the imagination, which was given, like every other faculty, for the service of God and of his church. But an infinitely higher authority meets us in the Divine parables of our Great Teacher, immediately acting upon this most val* uable faculty for the illustration and enforcement of his important truths. And this example is the more to our purpose, as fixing the limit and direction, as well as legitimating the employment of fiction. The imagination is placed in immediate contact with plain and sober truth; while it derives its primary interest, not from its own representations, but from the truth which it was intended to exhibit.

With all these allowances, however, the general introduction of fiction into the cause of truth, is, as Miss Graham observes, of very doubtful benefit; or, even admitting the prospect of usefulness to be more determinate, it has proceeded very far beyond the necessity of the case. Minds formed for effective usefulness need to be conversant with the solidity of truth, not with the visionary atmosphere of fiction; while the indulgence of this artificial character fosters a baneful spirit of excitement; generates a distaste for well-regulated studies; creates a taste for moral reading of a more detrimental character; weakens the habits of self-controul, so essential to the strengthening of the intellectual and moral principles; and brings a habit of sentimentalism into the religious profession, in the stead of simple and practical spirituality.

The most effectual remedy against this existing and unfruitful indulgence, is to fill up the time with those solid pursuits which leave no room, while they mortify the taste, for works of doubtful utility; and to bring our intellectual recreations to the test of the Scriptural rule, which Miss Graham on a former occasion so justly inculcated, for the proof of the legitimacy of our principles and enjoyments: “Whether ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God.”

We conclude this selection from Miss Graham’s writings and correspondence, with an abstract of ‘Letters on the Duties of a Governess,’ a series of which she had contemplated for the use of her young cousin, then looking forward to this important and most responsible situation. She commenced her plan during her last illness, and with great difficulty wrote two letters in pencil from her dying bed. Though too incomplete in thought and style for publication, yet her manuscript will afford some interesting illustration of Christian principle, and many valuable suggestions of general instruction for the use of those young persons who are now filling, or who are prospectively anticipating, this interesting station in the domestic economy.

These letters appear to have been one of Miss Graham’s last efforts for one, whose best interests formed one of her most tender ties to life. After commencing with the most affectionate expression of her deep-toned anxiety for her, she thus proceeds to remind her of her Christian responsibility.

1 The great wish of my heart for you,’ she writes, ‘is, not that you may be a very learned or accomplished governess, (though these are highly valuable considerations in their place,) but, that, possessing as large a measure of these things as your means and abilities will aljow, you may he truly and decidedly a Ch?’istian governess. For, oh! my dearest, your’s is a charge of souls. The spiritual welfare of

your pupils is subordinately committed to your care; and at your hands will the neglect of this solemn trust be required.’

In this first preparatory letter she is chiefly occupied in inculcating upon her cousin the Christian principle of faith in Christ, in all its detailed application to the circumstances, trials, and encouragements of the situation of a governess.

* 1 can only offer my advice to you as a Christian. I know but of two states to which children can be brought up; for heaven or for hell; for time or for eternity. I am departing out of time; and “knowing that for you and them too, time soon shall be no more, I dare not go upon any system but one fitting for souls born for immortality. Every word then that I write, must be on the supposition, that the glory of God, and the eternal happiness of your pupils, are your first aim; and that every other object, however praiseworthy in itself, is only secondary and subservient to this one grand object of a Christian teacher’s existence.

‘I exhort you to enter upon the new and arduous duties of your situation, ‘; looking to Jesus.” Remember that he is “the author and finisher of your faith;” that you cannot stir one step without his aid; and the moment you begin to look off from him to any other object, that moment will your steps begin to slide. Fix your eyes then steadily upon him. “As the eyes of servants look unto the hand of their masters, and as the eyes of a maiden unto the hand of her mistress, so let your eyes be upon the Lord your God,” in all times, in all places, and in all circumstances.

‘And first, I earnestly recommend you to “look unto Jesus” in your choice of a situation. Pray constantly for Divine assistance and direction on this most important subject. This implies that you intend to seek for a situation among God’s people; for I suppose you will hardly ask God to give you any other. You may deem it unlikely that you should obtain a situation in so limited a sphere. But your dying friend would remind you: “The God, who has led me all my life long,” never forsook me upon any occasion, when I put my trust in him. The word of truth assures you, that “He has never forsaken any, who put their trust in him.” Nor will he forsake you, if you commit your way to him on this important occasion. From Abraham’s time until now, the Christian’s motto has ever been: “The Lord will provide.” Only “rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for him; fret not thyself in any wise to do evil. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.” I charge it upon you,

beloved, as my dying, earnest wish, that you take every

proper means to obtain a situation among decided Christians; and that, as far as it may be in your power, (for I know that it may not be always possible for you to directyour own conduct,) you join yourself to those who “are not of the world,” and to no others. An established Christian mitrht go in faith MEMOIR OF

under the clear guidance of providence, into a worldly or irreligious family; and (if the parent would allow of her interference) she might be made a blessing to the whole family. But such a step, wilfully take?i, would be a serious, perhaps a fatal, injury to an undecided Christian. In a vast multitude of cases, the natural consequence of choosing a lot among the children of this world has been, that indecision in religion has become indifference; indifference has terminated in aversion; and the wretched professor has shown herself openly on the side of the world, tormented with the sting of her former convictions, and vainly contrasting her worldly mirth with “the voice of rejoicing and salvation,” which she had heard “in the tabernacles of the righteous.”

‘On the other hand, a situation in a truly Christian family will cover you from many worldly temptations, and afford you many important opportunities of marking the beauty and happiness of religion. Under a kind Christian mother, you may be directed and encouraged in extensive usefulness to your pupils, while at the same time you are receiving valuable advantages for your own mind. Under all circumstances, be assured that you will find the blessing of taking this first great step of your life — “looking unto Jesus.”

4 “Look unto Jesus” also for strength to perform the duties of your situation. These you will find to be many and arduous, such as in your own strength you can never rightly perform. The more correct and enlarged your view of those duties, the more readily you will sink under them, unless you can “be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might.” But remember you “can do all things through Christ which strengthened you.” His “grace is sufficient for you;” and his encouragement is — “Ask, and it shall be given you.” Let a sense of your continual need stir you up constantly to apply to him for his aid, not only in your spiritual duties, but in your teaching, in your studies, in the very least and meanest of your employments. Thus “out of weakness you will be made strong.” You will not soon “be weary in well-doing; for they that wait on the Lord shall renew their strength.”

Look to him for counsel in the difficulties of your situation. Remember that he is not only your strength, but your “wisdom.” When your path is so intricate “and perplexed, that you know not which way to turn, then ask the Lord to “lead you in a plain path,” to “order your steps in his word.” In every little as well as in every great perplexity, follow David’s rule to “inquire of the Lord.” The advice of friends is ever to be sought and valued; but that of the kindest and wisest may sometimes be insufficient or erroneous, or given in a harsh injudicious manner. But the Lord giveth not only advice, but “wisdom, liberally and without upbraiding.”

* “Look unto Jesus” for comfort and encouragement in the trials and disappointments of your situation. The life of a governess is peculiarly subject to little daily crosses and vexations. These, as well as greater ones, are to be borne, by laying them upon Jesus. No burden is too great or too little to be cast upon the Lord. A cheerful looking unto Jesus, an assurance that he ever loveth and ever careth for us, will bear us through many petty annoyances, which sometimes wear health and spirits much more than real and great grievances.

‘Lastly, “Look unto Jesus” for a certain reward upon your labour. You have a promise — “Train up a child in the way he should go, and, when he is old, he will not depart from it.” Ask for patient earnest faith, to plead this promise importunately, incessantly with him. “All the promises of God are yea and amen to us in Christ Jesus;” and while we pray for, we ought to expect their fulfilment. “He is faithful that promised.” The great Sower will assuredly watch over the seed that is sown in faith, and will bring it to perfection. You may labour day after day for the souls of the children under your care, and yet see them as careless and unconcerned as ever; but look steadily unto Jesus; tarry contentedly the Lord’s leisure; “for in due time you shall reap, if you faint not.”’

In her second letter she enters into a detail of some of the pleasures and discomforts of the life of a governess. Under the former head she remarks: —

‘The life of a governess, however dull and monotonous it may sometimes be thought, has many pleasures of a very refined and superior nature. Among the first of these I reckon the usefulness and importance of the task in which she is daily engaged. Compare the recollections of a day spent to some valuable purpose, with the reflections which follow one that has been frittered away in trifling and vanity, or absorbed in selfish gratifications; and you will see at once, if you know it not already, how great the pleasure of usefulness must be to every rational thinking being. But to the Christian, this is not only pleasing but necessary. It is his pleasure and de-MEMOIR OF

light to lay himself out for the glory of God, and the good of his fellow-creatures. For this he is content to “wait all the days of his appointed time;” and much as he longs for the pleasures that are prepared for him above; yet if his abiding in the flesh be needful for the sake of one living being, be would not “depart,” even “to be with Christ.” I know of no employment in which a Christian woman can be more profitably engaged, than in watching over the spiritual and mental improvement of children. The young beings entrusted to her care may form the comfort and delight of parents, brethren, husband, friends, children. They may grow up to be happy in themselves, and blessings to society. Above all, they may be so many “jewels” added to the Redeemer’s crown, and may themselves “turn many souls unto righteousness.” To be the instrument, (under God,) of the smallest particle of this good, must be inexpressible delight.

‘Nothing invigorates our progress so much as encouraging prospects of success. This is the undoubted privilege of a teacher of youth. Not to speak of those promises of God, mentioned in my last letter, and which of themselves suffice to make us “against hope to believe in hope;” the human probabilities of moral and intellectual improvement, from which God permits us to draw encouragement, are most enlivening. To reform the manners, to eradicate the prejudices,, to correct the tempers, of those whom age has matured, and set as it were in the form which they must afterwards retain, is indeed a most difficult task. But with the young, where we have to form instead of to reform, to prevent rather than to eradicate: patient instruction, and unremitting watchfulness wrill in ordinary cases succeed to a very considerable degree. And though divine grace only can subdue their evil tempers and dispositions, human means may do much towards retraining that outward violence, which so often makes young people not only wretched in themselves, but an occasion of sorrow to all connected with them. The same advantage is connected with Christian grace and improvement. The minister preaches with holy earnestness to his adult congregation: but it is to the young of his flock, not yet hardened in sin or in worldly habits, that he turns with peculiar hope and encouragement. To this comparatively tender and unoccupied soil, he consigns the seed, in the cheerful confidence that it will spring up, and bring forth fruit to perfection. These are the hopeful beings with whom you will have to deal; and as youth is the season of hope and expectation, so is your task peculiarly one of hope and glad anticipations.

In the attachment of her pupils, a kind governess finds another perpetual source of pleasure. This you are almost sure to obtain by a habit of considerate and affectionate intercourse with them, especially if they come under your care at an early age. It is delightful te be beloved by those whom we have thus bound to us by the cords of gratitude and love. For the justness and clearness of most of their notions; for their ability to discern what is good, and to enjoy what is delightful and intellectual; for all their knowledge and many of their pleasures, your pupils will probably (if you conduct yourself according to my hopes) be indebted to you. They will scarcely ever, fail to manifest warm attachment to one, who has so many claims on their gratitude. They must love their faithful adviser, their kind and intelligent teacher, their cheerful entertaining companion, and their affectionate and sympathizing friend.

The improvement of your own mind is also a source of inexpressible delight. A conscientious governess will be perpetually and delightfully improving herself. While explaining subjects to her pupils, her own views become clearer; while she is teaching them facts or words, her own recollection of them is refreshed and strengthened. The arrangement of her knowledge for the use of her pupils is of the highest advantage to herself. She must learn to think clearly, that she may be able to express her meaning clearly to her young and ignorant auditors; and if her own acquaintance with the subject be obscure, imperfect, or superficial, the attempt to teach will soon discover it to her, and compel her to correct it. Thus her previously acquired knowledge will be more solid and permanent, while she will be continually adding to its store. Often she may not be able readily to answer her pupils’ questions. Further researches therefore on her part are necessary; and thus the demands of her teaching stimulate to perpetual increase of her attainments.

I mention one more privilege connected with the life of a governess. Next to the improvement of her own mind, and indeed because of the improvement that it yields to her own mind, is the pleasure of gaining an insight into the minds of others, into the human mind in general. In cultivating a flower garden there are few pleasures equal to that of watching the tender buds, as they unfold one by one their beauteous Q2

petals- How delightful is it to admire the wisdom of God, who teaches them to peep in due season from their mantle of green; bids the sun to clothe them in all the colours of the rainbow; and endues them with shapes so varied and so perfect, that the little flower has been the joy and solace of man’s breast in every age! But what is this to the pleasure of watching the mind of a little child, as those faculties which lay wrapped within its tiny folds, begin gradually to expand, each in its order; every day witnessing the drawing forth of some new idea, or the unfolding of some latent power 1 And at a later age to watch those powers and faculties, as they daily improve and strengthen: to see the unformed and untaught child, grow up before your eyes into the graceful, refined, and intellectual woman; to mark every step by which it is effected, and to be yourself employed as an instrument in effecting it; all this is a source of such continual and ever varying delight, that to my mind it amply compensates for the tediousness and fatigue of teaching. And then there is the pleasure of watching, not only different faculties, but different minds; of comparing their several degrees of development, and the peculiar combination of faculties, which constitutes the formation of each peculiar turn of mental temperament. You may probably find among your pupils many instances of this endless variety; the more quick and ready mind; the lively and imaginative; the clear and decided; the solid and steady; the strong, the deep, the energetic, the inquiring, the contemplative. You will find that each of these will develop itself in a peculiar manner, and put forth their several powers and faculties with different degrees of vigour and perfection. As an intelligent gardener, in order that his different flowers may open and expand to perfection, exposes them to every degree of air and heat, and treats them with every variety of soil; so will you find the most varied modes of treatment necessary in assisting the development of your mental blossoms, and in contending with the defects peculiar to each. These will be gradually suggested to you by experience; and will assist you much in combating the defects in your own mind, which the course of your teaching in a watchful habit of self-inspection will bring before you. And as the child is but the copy of the man, you will thus be better enabled to discern the intellectual beauties and defects of those with whom you converse. The dull prosy cease to be wearisome, while we are busily employed in inquiring into the causes of their imperfections, how they might have been, or might still be corrected.

The advantages you will gain in watching the tempers and dispositions of your pupils will be yet more valuable and important. This, however, is a less pleasing task. The fall of man, though it has made shipwreck of every mental faculty, has still left the wreck as it were, the sadly obscured and mutilated remains of what was once so noble and beautiful. But our tempers and dispositions it has totally perverted. To study the varieties of the natural heart, is but to study selfishness and pride, in all the various forms of virtue and vice, which they have assumed for the delusion and destruction of mankind. Yet, the high importance of this study, with the word of God for our guide, will fully compensate for its painful disappointments. If God gives me life and strength, I shall again have occasion to touch on these points; I will, therefore, leave them now, and proceed to some of the disadvantages connected with a governess’ situation; — not to discourage you, but to prepare you, if I can, in some cases to avoid, in others to meet them cheerfully.’

Her exhibition of the discomforts of the life of a governess shows much good sense and knowledge of character in the true spirit of Christian sympathy. The most delightful characteristic, however, is the habitual bent of her mind, ever turning, like the magnetic needle, to the point of attraction. Thus, in the first inconvenience that she mentions, the separation of the governess from her own domestic circle she

naturally draws out an application, which seems to say with the church of old — “Saw ye him whom my soul loveth V* J The grievance’ as she justly observes, ’ is often lighter than is anticipated. Strangers cannot live long in the same house without ceasing to be strangers; and where there is a due proportion of encouraging kindness on the one hand, and of respectful confidence on the other; friendship will soon take place of strangeness and reserve. This is particularly the case, where both parties are sincere Christians. The love of their common Lord begets such feelings of union and sympathy between them, that the hand of fellowship is soon held forth and accepted, as if they had long known and loved each other. They know so much about each other, of which the rest of the world is ignorant; they feel themselves so much of” strangers and pilgrims upon earth,” that they cannot but rejoice at meeting with a fellow-sojourner, who, like themselves, “has no continuing city, but seeks that better country,” to which their own steps are directed. Added to this general feeling amongst the Lord’s people, the Christian mother may surely be expected to receive with peculiar interest and affection, the young person, whom she has engaged to assist her in bringing up for God those dear objects of her love, for whose temporal and spiritual welfare she cries unto him nicrht and day. Even should you fail of obtaining this privilege; should your employers be ever so cold and distant; still the affections of your pupils, conciliated to you by affectionate and judicious treatment, will be objects of incessant interest to fill up the void in your heart, in the consciousness of loving and being beloved. And I think that a teacher of youth thus blessed and encouraged will seldom be inclined to reckon her condition very desolate or forlorn. But even should this comfort be denied you (a misfortune I hope and trust very unlikely to happen in your case), I have to remind you of another source of consolation, which can never fail or disappoint you. If you now give yourself to Jesus, you can never be wholly amongst strangers; for your best, dearest friend — one who is “born for adversity, who sticketh closer than a brother” — is with you, yea, and has promised to be “with you to the end of the world.” And oh! what a friend and comforter is Jesus! How abundant in loving-kindness! How tender in sympathy! How rich in counsel! How” meek and lowly in reproof! How wise to direct! How mighty to help! How slow to anger! How ready to forgive! What a faithful, unfailing, promise-keeping friend!’

Aoainst ‘the feeling of afflictive solitariness,’ a measure of which under the most favourable circumstances must belong to absence from the happy family circle — she suggests the° following alleviating considerations. The Christian turn which she gives to the first suggestion is exquisitely beautiful:

1 Think first, what a common privation it is. Almost every family disperses, as the younger part arrive at maturity. One son perhaps remains at home to support his father’s declining years, and to fill his place when he shall be no more. The others betake themselves to distant parts, and are often content to look forward to a reunion in ten, twenty, or thirty years. The daughters probably marry, and accompany their husbands to remote situations, from whence they return once in a few months or years, to visit the still dear party at home.

This you will say is an unfair comparison. For the happy young wife goes with her husband, who is more to her than all the friends of home; and she is soon settled in a new home; and surrounded by a family and friends still dearer to her than those she has left. True, my dear — — ; and this is what I wish you to bear upon your mind in every trial you may have to encounter. The happy wife misses not the home of her youth; because, wherever she goes, she carries with her that which is better to her than home; and her pleasures no# are superior to those she has relinquished. And thus the devoted Christian; whether married or unmarried, has with her wherever she goes, the cheering presence of one, who is far dearer to her than husband, parents, brothers, sisters, or friends. She has made her home in the bosom of her God and Saviour. Thither she flies for sympathy and direction. In that kind bosom she can pour forth her joys and sorrows, far better than to the tenderest relatives or friends. She has nothing “in heaven besides her God, npr on earth any she desires in comparison of him.” She must feel as a stranger even in her own home, if it be composed of such as know not the name of Jesus; and wherever that beloved name is known and esteemed, there she is happy and at home. Go where she will, she cannot journey to the place where God is not; go where she will, she is still drawing near to that home, on which her thoughts and affections are fixed.’

Another ground of alleviation it very pointedly and sensibly set forth.

‘This painful separation from home, is in reality (under present circumstances) the best and happiest thing for you. Were two situations equally eligible to present themselves, and were I asked to assist you in your choice, assuredly the one near home would not be the object of my preference. A continual recurrence to the comforts and liberty of home, makes every little restraint and discomfort of a situation doubly irksome and annoying. The poor governess, who has the misnamed privilege of perpetual access to her home, returns from it in no very favourable mood to a place where she cannot (at least at first) be loved, caressed, and appreciated, as amongst her own friends. It is but too natural that she should consider every little departure from the unlimited and perhaps injudicious indulgence which she has just experienced, as an actual deviation from the law of kindness and equity; that she should magnify every real or fancied slight into contempt, every expression of disapproval into a harsh reproof, and every degree of strictness in requirement, into an unreasonable exaction. Soon the very nearness of her home tempts her steps thither again. There the well-filled budget of petty trials and vexations, which few young person have the wisdom to conceal within their own bosoms, or to tell to none but God, is emptied out before partial relatives, who hear but one side of the story, and are too apt to take it for granted, that there is no other way of telltng it. They cannot refuse to sympathize and console; and while they are wondering that such an attention was omitted, such a fault found, or such a duty exacted, they little suspect themselves to be the cause of the forlorn and disconsolate state of their dear relation. Nor does the evil end here. Her mind, divided between her pupils and home, cannot fully and affectionately employ all its energies in the service of the former. Too often will her absent looks and languid attention betray the fact so injurious for pupils to discover, that her mind can wander as well as theirs; and that their improvement and entertainment are objects which soon slide out of her thoughts, when occupied by subjects of more pleasant contemplation. Nor have I yet made the obvious remark, that the time lost in these frequent visits, however short, must deprive her of many opportunities of private improvement; and thus prove in the end extremely detrimental both to herself and her younger charge. From these considerations, a moderate distance from home is far preferable, from whence at stated and proper intervals you are permitted to revisit your friends. And I think that such reflections as these might enable us to bear the discomforts even of a long separation from home, not merely with patience, but with thankfulness.

‘I cannot quit this subject without strongly cautioning you, not too hastily to accuse the parents of your pupils of being unkind or unreasonable, because they are not willing to grant you leave of absence whenever you think fit to ask it. They, perhaps, with more justice, may think the unreasonableness to be all on your side. It is both right and natural that they should anxiously desire the improvement of their children in every branch of instruction, to which their attention has been directed; and they know that this is only to be attained by a steady course of persevering application. They know that every interruption to this course must have a pernicious effect, by weakening habits newly formed, and permitting old and bad habits to revive; by unsettling the mind in all its pursuits, and blotting out much of what has been already learned. If, therefore, they oppose your absence, it is because thgy value your services too much to part with them lightly,” or without sufficient cause. There are few cases in which you ought not to submit to their decision. But the best way to prevent any future misunderstanding or disappointment, is to make some arrangement before you enter upon your situation.’

The frequent change of situation, or the liability to this change, is well’ pointed out as a serious evil attending the life of a governess.

‘Her duties’ — it is observed — ’ are becoming easy and delightful to her; she is beginning to rejoice in the growing attachment of her pupils; she feels that she can look round on their little faces with a degree of maternal affection; when some unexpected cause induces or compels her to relinquish her situation. She has long been employed in clearing away the rubbish: inlaying the foundation; and in collecting and arranging the materials of her intended superstructure, which was begfnning to rise with a daily increasing order and symmetry. This°state of things might probably appear rude and unfinished to the eye of others, but it was full of hope and interest to her, who had been watching its progress from day to day, and confidently awaiting the happy, though distant, completion of her labours. Her work must now pass into the hands of another, who neither witnessed its commencement, nor can be aware of many important points connected with its progress. The new teacher, however, succeeds to all the benefits of that preparatory drudgery, with which her predecessor had hoped to pave the way for her own future exertions. It seldom happens that the children are not seriously injured by this change of system. The very act of changing has a tendency to unsettle the mind. The new comer’s manners, her new modes of expression, and new system of teaching, must render her at first less intelligible to them, than the familiar voice to which they have been accustomed; and till this disadvantage is conquered, her services must prove less effective. Besides, too often the new governess, confident of the superiority of her own methods of instruction, hastily puts aside the rules and arrangements of her predecessor — not because they are not good — but as if they could not be good, because they were not her own. Then the children also are discouraged and thrown back in many of their studies, that they may be grounded in them on the new system. Perhaps ere long another change is determined — a new teacher comes — and the bo&t methods are displaced by others that are newer and better still. The result of this broken and interrupted education will be a sort of clumsy patchwork, made up of a medley of fine and coarse materials, ill-contrived, ill-assorted, and loosely put together. These are some of the real injuries inflicted on children by the frequent change of domestic administration.

1 My chief concern, however, is with the governess. In addition to these mortifying circumstances, she is again thrown upon the world. She must once more take up her abode amongst strangers: her pupils are again unfamiliar to her; she must study their tempers; conciliate their affections; examine and arrange their present acquirements: in short, she must encounter anew every former difficulty. And when all this is effected, and things begin to glide smoothly on, another change, another loss of time and labour may yet be in prospect for her. The web may be again unravelled; the stone, that had been heaved half-way up the mountain, may roll down again to its very foot. I have dwelt strongly on the evils resulting from a frequent change of situation — not by way of discouragement, but of warning. I am persuaded that in a large majority of cases, young people might and would retain their engagement in one family much longer than they do, if only they would calmly sit down, and count the serious cost both to themselves and to their pupils (to which I have alluded) in relinquishing it.’

It would be difficult in all cases to determine what might be deemed a sufficient reason for relinquishing a situation. A few decidedly insufficient motives are accurately specified.

4 I need scarcely suggest, that a trifling increase of salary would be an insufficient reason for quitting a tolerably comfortable situation. Circumstances, such as some urgent family-call upon your assistance, might indeed render a change not only excusable but praiseworthy. But without an imperative call, it will be equally your interest and happiness to retain your station. I consider the governess, who will abandon her young charge for the mere sake of a little paltry emolument, much in the same light with the minister, who will leave his larger flock, for the same base motive of “filthy lucre,” without any clear providential call. This abandonment of present and certain usefulness for the sake of something new and uncertain, whether dictated by the love of gain, or the love of novelty, is not only sinful but imprudent. You are now more or -less comfortably settled. You know not how many discomforts may await you in a new situation. You leave those, who probably are becoming attached to you, for those who at present neither know nor care any thing about you. This is not the way to lay up friends against the time of sickness, distress, or age. The plain path of duty is always the path of prudence. Here only can you expect the” blessing of the Lord, which maketh rich; and he addeth no sorrow to it.V When however any tempting offer occurs, the love of gain so common to all, the love of novelty so inherent in young minds, and the persuasions of older sordid friends, are too likely to prevail with a young person, who is not enabled to hold fast her integrity, by working with a single eye to the service of Christ.

* Nor do I think, that any trifling inconvenience should induce you to relinquish an engagement, which holds out to you a fair prospect of usefulness. Every situation has its trials and privations; and it is better, if possible, to put up with those which already fall to your share, than to run the risk of incurring others which may be worse. Besides, these petty hardships are always most severely felt at first. After a time they wear off, and at length cease to occasion any considerable uneasiness. “When the temper of either parents or children is a trial to you; when the parents, through pride, avarice, or inconsideration, fail in a proper attention to your comforts; when the extreme retirement or excessive bustle of your situation makes it very unpleasant to you, &c. — in these, and many other similar cases, I sh’ould advise you to make as light of the evil as you can, and to bear with it as long as it can possibly be borne with.

4 Again — let not any sudden Jit of despondency induce you toglvcup your situation. There are few teachers who cannot recollect a time when every thing seemed to go wrong with them — ‘No children ever repaid the trouble bestowed on them so little; no situation ever possessed so few advantages; no parents were ever so exacting and dissatisfied. In any other family they should succeed better; here they can neither do justice to their pupils nor to themselves.’ Such feelings, which may be expected to arise in times of difficulty and discouragement, mark something very wrong in your own heart, that casts a shade upon all the objects around you: something that needs, not the indulgent experiment of change of situation, but a special course of self-examination, watchfulness, and prayer, to restore a healthful tone of energy, cheerfulness, and satisfaction to your mind.

‘I need scarcely observe, that no offence, real or fancied, except the former be of a very clear and aggravated character, could justify you in quitting a family in which you may have probably received much kindness, and may receive much more. A governess must expect to be told of her faults, and ought to be thankful for such information as may lead to their correction. Christians indeed too often perform the difficult office of reproof in a very harsh and grating manner; forgetting that the reproof of “the righteous should be like excellent oil,” not to “break,” but to heal, the wounded spirit. Yet the harshness writh which a censure may be given, forms no excuse for a defect of Christian meekness and love in receiving it. “Be not hasty in thy spirit to be angry;” but remember that “a soft answer turneth away wrath.” Indulge not that sensitive temper, which is always looking out for some ground of offence, over which it can brood, till it bursts out into open discontent; which bristles up at every light and unguarded expression, and is always on the defensive, even when no intentional slight could have been conceived. You will never long retain a situation without a forbearing spirit in respect to many little things, which are grating to a proud and self-conceited temper. Good sense and experience will indeed help to depress this baneful temper. For we can scarcely so far shut our eyes to the passing world around us, as to fail in-discovering, that the good opinion we may have formed of ourselves is ill-warranted by the general estimation in which we are held; that we must expect our full share of inconvenience and neglect. But true Christian humility can alone conquer the evil, by “bringing into captivity every high thought to the obedience of Christ.” The spirit and temper of which we have been speaking is ever ready to take fire at the least provocation, or even without provocation. It exacts not only due respect, but much more than, if it knew itself, it would find to be its due. It can bear with nothing; it can endure nothing. But do you follow after that “charity which suffereth long and is kind; is not puffed up; doth not behave itself unseemly; seeketh not her own; is not easily provoked; beareth all things.”

‘To sum up what I have said in a few words — when you have taken up your abode in a family, and have fairly sat down to the performance of your duties, remember that you are in the station to which God in his providence has called you; and that nothing but a clear and explicit call of duty or necessity can justify you in quitting it.

‘The causes that might induce your employers to dissolve the engagement (in which case yon can have no alternative) very materially depend upon yourself. Under any ground, just or unjust, of their dissatisfaction with you, endeavour in a spirit of prayer to sift every part of your conduct, and particularly the part censured, to the very bottom. Put yourself in their place. Make every allowance for the feelings of an anxious parent; and consider what might fairly be expected from you, and how far you have answered those expectations. Under any error discovered, be not ashamed to confess your fault with all candour and humility, and (in a higher strength than your own) to promise amendment. To retain your situation by this “voluntary humility” will be truly honourable in the eyes of Christians, who know that “he that humbleth himself shall be exalted.” But supposing that, after sincere self-examination, you cannot acknowledge the justice of the censure, still, as a Christian, strive to conciliate. Do not get warm or angry in your own justification; mildly profess your freedom from any intentional offence or omission; and declare your readiness to redouble your efforts to give satisfaction.

1 Should incompetency be alleged against you, I should advise you, rather than give up your engagement in despair or in offence, to endeavour by redoubled diligence and application, especially in the particular ground of complaint, to redeem and establish your character. Christian gentleness and humility to explain and conciliate, and a willingness to correct errors, and to supply omission, will in many cases restore satisfaction and confidence in the minds of your employers.

4 Should however — not any fault or caprice on either side — but some unavoidable domestic necessity, dissolve the connection, in this case many mitigating circumstances will present themselves to your mind. In the first place —” It is the Lord;’’’’ and not one of his appointments or disappointments is without some wise and gracious purpose. In the next place — all painful feeling of responsibility for any evil that may result from the change, is entirely removed. And thus supported by a sense of God’s blessing, and a clear conscience, you may look cheerfully forward to your new destination, hoping- to gain new friends without losing the old.’

The writer has been induced to quote so largely from these letters, because he is not aware of any work that enters into the detail of the principles, characteristics, and sympathies of the life of a governess. Had Miss Graham been permitted to complete her design, her accurate and observant mind would probably have produced a valuable manual for this interesting and important class of society. In the defect however of an entire system of instruction, the preceding hints will be found to suggest much sensible instruction nearly connected with their comfort and usefulness.

An even balance must, indeed, be preserved in the adjustment of this important part of domestic economy. If the generality of instructors are too flimsily furnished for their great task, perhaps it may be also said, that the generality of their employers are too niggardly. Though Miss Graham rightly inculcates upon her young governess not to consider stipend a primary matter, yet it is a part of Christian obligation to elevate her in a high rank above the menials of the house, and to consider the claims of aged parents or poor relations that often inconveniently press upon her. The same inconsiderate selfishness, and formal pride on the part of the parents, materially hinder the effective usefulness of the family instructors. It fosters in them a discontented spirit in the contrast with the tender sympathies of their own home. Their insulated station in the family throws them in irksome solitude upon their own resources; contracts their social affections; and paralyses that affectionate interest in their charge, which is the soul and energy of a fruitful system of instruction. Whereas a considerate tenderness would return to the parents an abundant recompense, in raising up for their children valuable friends in the persons of their instructors — attached to their interests beyond the prospects of sordid gain — wise, anxious, and sympathizing counsellors to the end of life.

On the other hand, the disposition in the employers to incorporate the instructor, as far as is consistent with her station, into the family circle, is too often restrained by hindrances over which they have no controul — even where a well-furnished mind, and general consistency of conduct would have made her society an important consideration. Yet a want of knowledge or respect for the regulations of decorum — defect of manners — forge tfulness of the due reserve connected with her situation — pedantic tone of conversation — vanity of dress — self-importance — a disputatious spirit — a love of authority — affectation, or studied eccentricity of behaviour — these or some other failure in the domestic graces — repel the exercise of kindly confidence, and produce a natural, and in some degree a necessary, distance in the deportment of the parents.

Let each side form their mutual behaviour upon Scriptural rules. Let the one practise the injunction of love — “Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so to them.” Let the other “be clothed with humility,” and be found in the daily observance of “whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report.” Thus Christian regard and happiness will be reciprocally diffused, without any compromise of their several obligations.

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